Shifting Perspective
by Missyhissy3
Summary: 'Workforce' re-worked. AU;'"It's complicated," he replies quietly, his eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead. If you only knew the half of it, Kathryn thinks.' J/C, P/T.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Paramount clearly owns all the characters. Copyright: Paramount

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><p><strong>AN<strong>: I'm guessing you could probably paper your living room with fanfic re-writes of 'Workforce' – even a fanfic newbie like me has read a fair few – but I just can't help myself. So, indulge me (if you want to). My only excuse is that I'm a very late arrival to the party.

For anyone who hasn't watched Season Seven recently, the episode 'Workforce' takes place after Chakotay had thrown Janeway in the brig and played games with her life while being controlled by Teero in 'Repression'. Then comes 'Shattered' where he tells her there are some barriers they never cross. And after that it's 'Workforce'. So maybe it's the final nail in the JC coffin, since it shows Chakotay that Janeway can fall in love and be happy with another man – and all in 3 weeks.

So, what if events on Quarra taught them a different lesson? All I've done is switch a couple of key players...

Big thank you to northernexposure for giving up her precious time to beta read this when she should've been doing her real work. Comments/reviews obviously welcome.

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><p>XxX<p>

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

B'Elanna sits at the table, reading a PADD. It's something to do. Others around are sitting and chatting over their drinks and their food. She picks up her fork and begins to eat.

A waiter she doesn't recognise appears at her table.

"Well hello there! I haven't seen you in here before. Have you just arrived?" He smiles encouragingly. His whiskers and the leopard-like spots on the side of his face catch her attention. She's never seen anyone from his species before.

"No. I've been coming in here the same time every day for the past two weeks."

"Well, that explains it. I usually work nights."

"Me too."

"At the Power Distribution Facility?"

"Neelix!" a woman calls to him from behind the bar, "I need you for a minute – or rather _this_… needs you." She gesticulates towards the back kitchen area.

"I'll be right there!" he calls. "Well, may I say how glad I am that you've decided to make this bar one of your regular haunts – it's definitely the best place around here to unwind."

"Well given it's the _only_ place I've been in so far around here, I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

"You won't get to try my cooking anywhere else," he winks. "Just let me know when you're ready for another drink – or for some dessert maybe – you might want to try the special. And you're in luck - there's still plenty left."

"Thanks, I'll be sure to let you know."

She picks at the spicy casserole again with her fork. The furry little waiter-come-chef bustles behind the bar and disappears.

Next time she looks across, she sees him talking to a man who has just walked in and is waiting at the bar. She recognises him immediately as one of the men who started work on the nightshift at the same time she did. He must be on the same shift-cycle too. As she watches, he turns and catches her eye. She holds his gaze for a split second before looking away.

When she saw him that first day there was something about him that made her stare a little despite herself. Two weeks on and she's still not sure what it was exactly. She's pretty sure it wasn't the tattoo over his left eye – although he wears it well. He said hello on the first shift, introduced himself. Cha- something. He seemed friendly and he has kind eyes. And this isn't the first time she's felt them on her.

He must have a skills level of at least five or six and some managerial experience as someone mentioned he's being trained up to be deputy shift supervisor. He seems to have fitted in well enough, but she noticed him because he doesn't join the group of men who go off to the bars after work. The only man she's seen him talking to outside the plant is another even taller man of the same race, with similarly dark colouring. More than once she's found herself walking behind this Cha-something when he leaves and heads straight for the employee housing as soon as the nightshift is over, just as she does.

Guess he must have finally felt the need for company on his evenings off, too. She looks away and focuses on her meal again.

A few minutes pass, and then suddenly she looks up to find him standing by her table.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I've been instructed to tell you that this 'treat' is on the house and it comes with the compliments of the chef." He holds out a small bowl. "He's a little busy at the moment, or he'd have brought it over himself." He motions towards the bar area where only the waiter's back is visible as he leans over his hotplates.

"Thanks," B'Elanna replies cautiously.

He looks down at the bowl, a quirk of his mouth betraying a little mischievous amusement. "You might want to try it first before you thank me."

B'Elanna follows his gaze to take in the gooey looking substance in the bowl. "Is it more first course, or is it dessert?"

"Mmm… let's see," his mouth twitches to one side again slightly as he assesses the offering in his hand, "My guess is that it's dessert." His eyes flick back up to meet hers and he adds quietly, "He said he'd noticed you were eating for two so you should make sure you have a hearty meal every evening."

"He did, did he?" B'Elanna almost succeeds in suppressing her snort of annoyance, and reminds herself she _really _must make more of an effort to give people a chance. "Maybe I'll give it a try." He sets the bowl down next to her plate and she looks more closely and pulls a face. "Or not."

He chuckles and she looks up to see two dimples she'd not seen before appear as his face breaks into a warm smile.

"Do you want me to take it back?"

"No. It's kind of him. Just leave it."

He nods acknowledgement and looks as if he's about to turn away, then he hesitates. "We work the same shifts, don't we?" he continues. "How are you finding it?"

"Good. Work's easy, and it pays a damn sight more than my last job."

"Yes, I'd have to say the same. And it's good to be somewhere where you know what's going to happen each day and there aren't too many surprises."

Usually, she can't wait for people to leave her in peace, but the curiosity she feels about his man takes her by surprise, and she finds herself asking him a question. "You arrived with the group from Earth, didn't you?"

"Yes. My ancestors lived there. I'm from one of the border colonies – quite a way from Earth. I haven't been there in years. You?"

"I left that sector a while ago too."

"This planet seems like a good place to be right now. I hope you're happy here."

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asks immediately, then kicks herself internally when she registers just how defensive it sounds. It's high time she loosened up and she knows it, or she'll never make any friends here.

Her less than cordial question doesn't seem to phase him, he just continues to watch her, his eyes still holding the warmth she noticed before. She wonders if he's going to ask about the baby. People usually do about now. But he just smiles and adds, "Well, enjoy your 'treat'. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks," she says, managing a small smile of her own.

He turns and heads back to the bar.

She watches his broad shoulders shift as he settles himself onto a stool with his back to her.

She'd already noticed at work that the angles of his facial features are striking - he has a strong nose and jaw. And she muses now that he has powerful looking shoulders. There's no denying he's a solid looking man, probably strong enough to withstand... _Damn those pregnancy hormones_. That's the last thing she wants to be thinking about right now. She smoothes the fingers of one hand over the material of the tunic that is stretched over the curve of her pregnant form. _  
><em>

The waiter leaves the hotplates at the back of the bar and comes to talk to him. The little man cranes his neck round her co-worker so he can catch her eye and he shoots her a wide grin.

She does her best to appear grateful for the complimentary dish and nods back. She surprises herself by finding she doesn't have to force the smile quite as much as usual. It was nice of him, she thinks, even if the dessert is inedible. And she admits to herself that it was actually good to talk to someone – to both of them – even though it was only a few minutes.

A short while later, when she's ready to head home, she stands and makes her way towards the bar. The man from work is still sitting there, alone, and the little waiter is serving someone.

"Thanks," she says, and the man twists round and catches her eye. The waiter doesn't hear her.

"I'll be sure to pass it on," her co-worker tells her.

She nods to him in acknowledgement.

He watches as she turns towards the exit and as she passes directly behind him he asks quietly, "You all right walking to the transport on your own?"

"I'll be fine," she replies automatically. She really isn't worried about being out late alone. This is a safe planet and she can look after herself anyway.

He holds her gaze with a small smile and says simply, "Good night."

_Yeah, he has a warm smile, _she thinks as she walks out into the cool night air.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Five days later

On board the _Delta Flyer_

Tom Paris is sitting in the aft compartment of the _Delta Flyer_, watching as his friend lies groaning on the biobed.

"In six years I've never been on an away mission worse than this one," Harry moans, eyes closed.

"I don't know how you can say that!" Tom replies, feigning disbelief. "The Nar Shaddan sure know how to throw a party and we picked up a cargo hold full of supplies. I had a great time down there."

"Well, I'm very happy for you," Harry responds. "I wish I could say the same, but my stomach is crammed with alien parasites doing backflips."

Tom pats Harry's stomach. "I guess you shouldn't have drunk that Falah nectar."

The patting causes Harry to open his eyes and he groans accusingly, "_You_ insisted I try it!"

"How I am supposed to resist an opportunity to watch you get tipsy and let your hair down around the Captain? And anyway, the Nar Shaddan consider it a delicacy." Tom reminds him. "To refuse would have insulted them."

"I didn't hear anyone insisting she try it."

"The Captain was in command and she's taking a shift at the helm right now, she needed to stay just as sharp as her pilot." Tom slaps him on the shoulder. "And anyway, you must have been able taste how much of that weird alcohol was in it – or did the flavour of the meat overpower the punch it would have packed?"

Harry's eyes open wide as he grabs Tom's arm. "It was made from meat?"

"More like a meat by-product," Tom qualifies casually.

"I'm going to be sick," Harry moans.

"You know, Harry, I have to admit I've wondered a few times recently how come you're still an ensign – given we've been out here more than six years now." He pats Harry's shoulder again and smiles. "But now, it suddenly makes sense. You're still green."

"Very funny, _Lieutenant_," his long-suffering friend replies.

Then Janeway's voice comes over the comm from the cockpit. "Tom, I know Harry's not feeling well, but I need you both up here now."

"We're on our way," Tom replies as Harry manoeuvres himself awkwardly off the biobed with another groan and they both climb the steps through to the cockpit.

"Anything wrong, Captain?" Tom asks.

"We're at the rendezvous coordinates," Janeway replies without turning round, "but there's no sign of _Voyager_, and they're not responding to hails." Then she gets up quickly, "Tom, take the helm; Harry, start scanning on all frequencies. They've got to be out there somewhere."

"Aye Captain," Harry replies, then adds at a level only Tom can hear, "So much for my own bed."

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><p>XxX<p>

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><p><span>Two weeks later<span>

Power Distribution Plant - Quarra

A tall, slim man from a workstation on the other side of the facility approaches B'Elanna and stops, blocking her path.

"Excuse me," he says, "I believe we know each other." His dark eyes fix her intently.

She takes a step back instinctively and recognises him. "You're Tuvok, right? We met a couple of weeks ago at the shift briefing."

He moves slightly closer. "Before that," he says, urgently. "Before we were working here."

"No, I don't think so." B'Elanna turns away from him, sending a clear signal of dismissal.

He doesn't respond to her body language but continues. "Still, I believe I know you. From the hospital, perhaps?"

"The hospital?" _He's been in hospital_? She wonders where this is going.

"I am not certain. We were patients."

"Somehow I don't think you'd have been in the only part of the hospital I've had check-up appointments in, do you?" She looks down pointedly at her heavily pregnant form, then back up to meet his shifting eyes. "Maybe you have me confused with someone else. Look, I'm busy here, so…"

He doesn't still doesn't take the hint – he's still standing there, stepping even closer if anything, looking increasingly agitated. Then he suddenly grabs her by both elbows. "Please, try to remember," he insists. "It may be important."

B'Elanna immediately pushes him off with considerable force. It's harder to do than she expects_. Kahless, this man is strong_!

In an instant Chakotay appears from behind her. "Everything all right?"

She turns to face him. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

"Tuvok?" Chakotay says to him. "Do you need help with something?"

Tuvok suddenly looks less sure of himself and replies, "No, everything is fine. It's just, er, it's, er, a misunderstanding."

B'Elanna looks more closely at him and notices tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Just as she's about to say something, Chakotay speaks, "You don't look well, Tuvok. Maybe you should go have someone take a look at you in the infirmary?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Fine. Er, I'll go back to my station. Sorry to have bothered you." He walks away, wavering slightly and B'Elanna turns to Chakotay who is still at her side.

"What was that all about?" he asks, frowning slightly as they watch Tuvok move back to his workstation.

"I'm not sure," she replies. "He seemed really worried, and a little confused. He said he knew me, from _before_."

"Before Quarra?"

"I don't know. He didn't say, but there's no way I've met him before, I'd remember. He seems kind of strange."

"He looks like hell. I hope he changes his mind and calls in at the infirmary."

"Maybe you should check up on him later."

"I think I will." He smiles. "So, are you coming over for breakfast after the shift?"

"Again?"

"You sick of us already?"

"No, you and Mike are the only friends I've got here – I can't afford to get sick of you. It's just I feel bad that I haven't asked you back to my apartment yet. It's bigger than either of yours."

"You had enough of roughing it with the low-life then?"

"You're hardly low life, Chakotay - Mr _deputy shift supervisor_ already, after less than a month."

"Maybe if I get promoted to shift supervisor I'll get an apartment as big as yours."

"Not unless you get yourself pregnant too. I got given the extra space because of the baby. You know how generous the terms and conditions are here. I've never heard of such a good maternity package anywhere."

"Well, would you prefer to spend some of your generous wages going out to eat then? I'm sure Mike can be persuaded."

"Sounds good to me."

"Do you feel daring enough today to risk Neelix's food again?"

"Klingons aren't afraid of much, but I'll admit I was scared my taste buds would never recover from that 'porridge' we had last time."

"It was rather… unusual," he chuckles. "But if we're owning up to things, I'd have to admit that it's still my favourite place to go after work. Would you mind if we went there again?"

"No, actually. I can't believe I'm saying this, given what was in that porridge, but I like it there too."

"I guess it must be the atmosphere, because it certainly isn't the food."

"No."

_It's you, and Mike_, she surprises herself by thinking, _I trust you. And trust doesn't come easy these days – who am I kidding? Did it ever? _

She shakes herself internally and continues, "Anyway, you better get back to work. You might be deputy shift supervisor, but that isn't enough to keep the efficiency monitor off your case – I swear that woman has micro-sensors in the back of her head. She's already on her way over."

Chakotay turns and follows the direction of B'Elanna's gaze to find the subject of their conversation. "Thanks – glad you've got my back. I have to admit I'm starting to wonder if she's building a case to get me fired. Every time I turn around it seems like she's watching me."

"Yeah – you could be right." B'Elanna already noticed a while back that the rather officious, humourless blonde woman does seem to single out her friend for special attention. "Maybe she's after your office? It's bigger than hers."

"Maybe. Anyway, I'll see you later. We'll call past for you after the shift's over."

[TBC]


	3. Chapter 3

Big thank you to northernexposure who beta read this when she should've been doing her christmas shopping, and to Photogirl1890 for casting her eagle eyes over it for a typo check after I'd messed with it when she should've been working on her SS story.

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><p><span>Chapter Three<span>

Sickbay

Tom feels his eyebrows rise, despite his genuine attempt to keep his expression neutral, and, of course, she doesn't miss it.

"Control yourself, Mr Paris," she scolds immediately. "You're going to compromise this mission if you can't keep a straight face!"

"I'm sorry, Captain. It just takes some getting used to."

"Those forehead ridges don't add much to your charms either, you know."

He's already gotten over his amusement at the convincingly alien reflection staring back at him from the hand mirror the Doc offered him earlier, so Janeway's comment doesn't come as a surprise. He's still convinced that the changes in his own appearance pale into insignificance when you look at her… "It's not the ridges."

"What then?"

Hands on her hips, chin in the air, she's trying to demand an explanation in her usual captain-like manner, but it's just….

"Come on, spit it out, Tom," she continues, "Then maybe you can focus on what we're going to beam down there for."

Paris can't help but smile. "It's not just the ridges, it's the whole thing. And with the voice modulator, Captain. You just sound so…" – he searches for a suitably expressive yet tactful word and comes up empty – "so _different_."

"Personally, I don't think the modulator was even necessary." Janeway turns to stare pointedly at the EMH.

"Let me be the judge of that, Captain," the Doctor defends. "We can't be too careful. You have a very distinctive voice. We don't want the two of you getting yourselves recognised, brainwashed and put to work down there as well."

When she addresses the EMH again, Tom can tell she's still far from convinced. "And it's easy to remove?"

"Of course," the hologram replies, as he looks her up and down, and then fusses over her wig, giving it a forceful yank, presumably to align it better. He continues his explanation, "You can deactivate it temporarily with this feature on the dermal regenerator. Just change the setting like so–" He demonstrates how to enter the necessary modifications as Janeway watches intently.

Seemingly resigned to the situation, Janeway pulls her tunic style dress straight and fixes the physician with her penetrating gaze.

The EMH seems satisfied with his last minute adjustments to her appearance and offers her the hand mirror. Janeway studies her reflection. "Really, Doctor, don't you think you may have gotten a little carried away? Surely this ludicrous wig and the forehead ridges would haven been enough."

"Actually, Captain, you look good blonde." Paris smirks. "It suits you."

"I very much doubt that. Anyway," she asks, a little less confidently, "the voice – it's not so different, is it?"

"I've only raised the pitch by a semitone," the Doctor interjects defensively.

"Exactly." She fixes Tom with a challenging look. "So, what's so funny, Lieutenant?"

"It's just very... You sound _very, very_ _young_. Reminds me a little of Kes."

"Well – here's another reminder for you – I'm not a breathy blonde adolescent and I'm still in charge – so get over it. Now. That's an order."

"Yes, Ma'am." Tom tries slightly harder to keep his amusement in check.

Janeway purses her lips and turns her back on him to face the EMH again. Lifting her arms from her sides in an expansive gesture she continues, "Well, Doctor, thank you. I certainly feel confident I won't be recognised."

Tom can't help himself. "There is absolutely no way anyone would recognise you, Captain. Not even Chakotay. Not even if you accidentally start ordering him about."

She turns back to Tom and he feels the full force of the death glare – although he suspects she's forgetting he was immune to it before, and now, with the blonde wig and the ridges? Well… she's going to need to work up some new tactics.

She continues undeterred, "Just in case the authorities suspect we may come back looking for our people, I don't want you to use your real name either – we already introduced ourselves at that first meeting. Pick an alias – and before you ask, no, you can't be Captain Proton. A _believable_ sounding alias."

"OK. What about you?"

"I'll use Shannon O'Donnell."

"That would be your ancestor, Captain?" the Doctor asks.

"Yes, I've always liked the name Shannon," she says in her disturbingly alluring new voice. "So, Tom, what's it going to be?"

Tom stops himself thinking about his captain's new appearance and replies, "Hmm, well I've never liked Eugene, so I think I'll go for Ernest. Ernest King."

"That's not a name I'm familiar with. Should I be?"

"He was fleet admiral for the United States of America – chief of naval operations during Earth's Second World War."

"A childhood hero?"

Tom feels his cheeks begin to colour slightly but refuses to acknowledge the discomfort. "You bet."

"Well, Ernest it is then. And we're all set?"

"Yes, Captain. As soon as I told the Supervisor our qualifications, he couldn't wait to hire us. He even helped me get a docking permit for Neelix's ship. We should both have jobs by tomorrow morning."

Just as Tom finishes speaking, the sickbay doors swish open and Harry appears. "Here you go, Doc."

The EMH takes the tiny devices the ensign is holding out, places one on the tray beside him and retains the other. He turns to Tom. "Give me your hand, Mister Paris."

"What's this?" Tom asks Harry.

"A sub-dermal transponder," his friend replies. "It will allow us to maintain an open comm. link so we can transport you through the shield grid if there's trouble."

"Nice work," Tom remarks approvingly.

The Doctor takes the second device and inserts the transponder beneath Janeway's skin as she gives her orders. "Hold position at maximum transporter range."

"Aye, Captain," replies Harry.

The Doctor bristles immediately. "I assumed I'd be in charge during your absence, Captain," he interjects, his affront evident.

"Excuse me?" Harry's surprise is equally evident.

"An Emergency Command Hologram programmed with over two million tactical subroutines outranks an ensign."

"A few words to the computer and this ensign can delete those subroutines."

"Then you'd be depriving yourself of a skilled leader for the sake of your ego."

"Oh, my ego?" Harry retorts, his indignation rising.

"Gentlemen, enough!" Janeway looks down and pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment. "Neither of you are exactly instilling confidence in your abilities here! Do I need to rethink this plan?"

"No, Captain. We'll work it out," Kim replies sheepishly.

"Good. Because I'm relying on you both to take care of the ship while Tom and I try to find out exactly what they've done to our people and how to get them back."

"Aye, Captain," Harry and the hologram respond in resigned unison.

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><p>XxX<p>

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><p><span>Quarra - 24 hours later<span>

Tom is a good half hour behind the other workers in leaving the power plant after his first night at work. He had to attend an extra orientation session with the supervisor. The only other workers who stayed behind after the nightshift were Mike Ayala and Seven. It looked to him like Seven had Ayala cornered and was interrogating him. He watched for a few seconds while the man shifted uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze, looking anywhere but at her. They might have altered Ayala's memory, but clearly certain aspects of his personality were still intact.

Tom makes his way towards the bar where he's arranged to meet Janeway. She's not due for a little while yet, so he's not in a hurry. He's still trying to make sense of everything he's noticed about the crewmembers he's come across so far.

He enters the café-restaurant and stops, leaning back against the bar and looking out to survey the room.

Within seconds he picks out B'Elanna and Chakotay, seated in a booth in the far corner, empty breakfast plates pushed to one side of their table, drinks still in front of them. B'Elanna is talking and Chakotay is listening attentively, eyes lively with evident amusement. The booth consists of a bench seat, built into the wall, and two chairs on the opposite side of the small table. Tom can't help but bristle as he takes in the relaxed familiarity of their posture. Chakotay's right arm is resting along the back of the bench seat, and he and B'Elanna and are sitting close together. Very close together, in fact.

Paris takes a deep breath, ignoring the sinking feeling that threatens to take hold of his heart for a moment. He watches them. They are far enough away and the bar is full enough for his gaze to go unnoticed. Something in his wife's body language seems different, but when she laughs, his ears pick out the familiar sound immediately, despite the considerable background noise. As he continues to watch them for another few seconds, an unwelcome thought presents itself. There's something in their demeanour that makes him think they're closer here than they were on _Voyager_ or in the Maquis even. His heart sinks a little further.

This is the second time in the last twelve hours he's watched her share a meal with Chakotay. The second time he's watched her looking this… this _happy_.

Tom feels another stab of the intense yearning for her presence that's been torturing him throughout these long, hard weeks spent searching for them. He can't help but think again about how much he's missed having her to talk to, to hold. He's been through hell – he's been so desperately worried about her and about the baby. He speculates that if he were a more selfless person he'd be feeling glad that she evidently hasn't been suffering as he has. When he first saw her alive and well in the power plant, the relief was potent, as was the shock at how much more noticeable her advancing pregnancy was now.

Another few seconds pass and she smiles at something Chakotay says. Tom sees an achingly familiar expression on her face – the one of indulgent affection – the one he sees when she's laughing both at and with him, in the way only she can.

He turns away and focuses on a point at the back of the bar for a moment as he collects himself.

_They aren't themselves here. Their memories have been manipulated. Their sense of self has been affected. They_ _aren't themselves here._

Suddenly he realises he's looking into another familiar face.

"Good morning!" Neelix says from behind the bar. "What can I get you?"

"The menu would be useful, thanks."

"Coming right up!"

Just as he is about to quiz _Voyager_'s chef and morale officer to find out the extent of his memory modifications, Janeway walks in. Paris suppresses some of his renewed amusement at her appearance, but indulges in just enough to raise his spirits a little. He watches her scan the room and pick him out.

She joins him at the bar. "So _Ernest_," she says quietly, "report."

"Everything went to plan so far for me, _Shannon_. How about you?"

"I've been assigned to the Primary Fusion Chamber along with Mulchaey and Celes. Neither of them recognised me – I had some orientation from the shift supervisor, then I was shown around by Celes. She told me she's only been here eight weeks, but she loves everything about the job and she's settled in very well. I've been told to report tomorrow morning to start working the full shift. So that leaves me the rest of today and this evening to find out as much as I can about our employers and about this planet."

Tom listens attentively, Neelix appears again and Tom orders them both a drink. Once Neelix moves off to serve a customer, Tom replies, "I've been assigned to the nightshift, so I started last night. The _efficiency _monitor was the first one of our people who caught my eye."

Janeway turns her head immediately to meet his gaze. "Seven?"

Tom nods and continues, "And then I ate my meal, mid-shift, sitting across from my wife, your first officer and Lieutenant Ayala in the cafeteria – they're working in the next section. They didn't look at me twice either."

Janeway doesn't seem surprised. "Everything I overheard led me to believe that their memories have been significantly altered. They remember their names, but not _Voyager_, or each other. And they are all surprisingly enthusiastic about life here and about their work – it seems like they all really love their jobs."

"It's like they've all had happy pills for breakfast," Tom concurs, reassured that Janeway's assessment of the crew's behaviour is similar to his.

She nods. "As if they've been _programmed_ to be content with everything about this place."

Then Janeway angles herself away from the bar a little and starts to scan the room. Tom is aware that if she turns round fully she'll see his wife and Chakotay on the other side of the restaurant and he feels the heat rising up through his alien shirt collar. Right now he doesn't want to feel her all too perceptive eyes on him once she's taken in their posture and the intimacy it suggests.

While he's still considering this she leans in so close that he feels her breath against his ear as she speaks again. "And it seems clear to me already that they're not going to leave willingly."

"You can say that again," he replies curtly.

Then Neelix appears and presents them with the drinks Tom ordered.

"Here you go," he offers, grinning at Tom and winking at Janeway.

The Captain smiles indulgently at the little Talaxian, picks up the glass of liquid and turns round fully to lean against the bar next to Tom. They both sip their drinks in silence for a moment and survey the room. He waits for her to find B'Elanna and Chakotay in the far corner. Janeway takes them in, and Tom's eyes flicker between her face and the couple in question. Tom is grateful for her lack of comment as they both watch them in silence for a while. Then she turns back to the bar.

"I met a man on my shift who might be a useful source of information about life here," she begins. "He seemed keen to talk to me and he seems to know the shift supervisor. I may be able to find out more about what happened when the crew arrived here. For the Doctor to be able to restore their memories, he may well need to know how they were altered in the first place. We need to find out whether it involved advanced brain surgery or if it's just a matter of some blocking device that's also responsible for transmitting false memories somehow."

"Good idea. Because something obviously happened to them that didn't happen to us when we came asking for work."

Janeway turns back to watch B'Elanna and Chakotay. "We should take that larger booth next to theirs – see if we can pick up anything else from their conversation."

Tom nods casually and leads the way to the booth, focused on maintaining his calculatedly relaxed gait and expression. He is certain Janeway isn't fooled for a minute, and equally certain she's already determined that his discomfort is the price they have to pay for information here.

[TBC]


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Paris and Janeway settle themselves into the two chairs in closest proximity to B'Elanna's booth, pulling the chairs away from the table slightly, right up against the partition. They are unable to see Chakotay and B'Elanna at all, but the partition is thin so sound carries reasonably well, and, consequently, their conversation is easy to overhear.

Tom sips his drink in silence and tunes in to B'Elanna's voice.

_"Wonder what's taking Mike so long?"_

"_I'm not sure_," Chakotay replies. "_He's usually first in line for any meal."_

"_I know. He's the only person who eats more than I do at the moment. The man's got an appetite like a Traykan beast_."

"_Now that's an animal I haven't thought about in a long time_."

Tom isn't sure but he thinks he hears Chakotay chuckle. B'Elanna's laughter is easy to pick out again.

"_Guess I haven't either." _

_"Yeah, well, I won't tell Mike that's what he reminds you of, don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."_

Janeway whispers to Tom, "They still seem to have substantial elements of their personalities intact, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," he concedes equally quietly, wishing there were grounds to disagree. "And whoever did this must have some extremely sophisticated method of distinguishing between long and short term memories. I hope that doesn't mean it'll be impossible for the Doc to reverse it all."

"We wouldn't want to underestimate the Doctor, Tom – I mean Ernest," she whispers back, stopping immediately when they hear B'Elanna speak again.

_"While I've got you on your own, maybe I can get some answers then."_

_"Answers?"_

_"You ready to tell me about what brought you here yet? We've known each nearly two months now. I've told you my story. So, what's the big secret?"_

Tom wonders what her story is exactly. Wonders if and how he features. He forces his attention back to their conversation and just manages to pick out Chakotay's answer, _"No big secret."_

_"So?"_

_"I just needed to move on."_

_"From what?"_

There's a pause. A pause so long, in fact, that Tom eyes Janeway and is about to say something as he begins to question whether the couple in the adjacent booth have actually gotten up and left. He's considering turning in his seat so he can peer around the edge of the partition when he hears B'Elanna again.

_"Move on from what, Chakotay? Or should I be asking 'From whom'? Who was she? It was a she, right?"_

Another pause. The background noise Tom had been successfully filtering out makes its way back into his consciousness.

Then finally Chakotay replies. _"Yes." _ There's another pause, and he adds, _"Someone I worked with."_

_"So, it didn't work out between you?"_

_"No."_

_"And?"_

_"And that's it."_

_"Chakotay!" _

Tom resists the urge to snort. It seems that even with his memories altered, _Voyager_'s first officer is still about as impenetrable as a Cardassian prison when it comes to trying to get anything remotely personal out of him.

B'Elanna isn't one to quit easily these days though – and if anyone isn't afraid to push for an answer, it's her. _"Why? Why didn't it work out?"_

_"She was the senior director of the terraforming operation."_

Tom can't help but glance at Janeway. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. It occurs to him that he isn't the only one who may find this uncomfortable. The Captain's expression is completely neutral, but it looks as if she's holding herself so damn still he's not sure she's actually allowing herself the luxury of breathing.

He tunes back in to hear B'Elanna say, _"And?"_

_"She wasn't interested. And rather than just accept that, I spent six years hoping, waiting." _

_"But you told her? How you felt?"_

Then comes another silence. Janeway swallows, although her glass is nowhere near her lips.

_"Chakotay! Six years and you didn't tell her? Was she a telepath or something?"_

Tom raises his glass and sips his drink to hide the smile that he fails to completely supress. He's still watching Janeway's face out of the corner of his eye and, for a split second, he laments the fact he can't see Chakotay's expression as B'Elanna quizzes him.

It's only a few seconds this time before B'Elanna presses on, _"Maybe she didn't know."_

_"Oh no. She knew all right."_

Tom's eyes flicker quickly away from Janeway's face as he suddenly feels guilty that he's been subjecting her to his scrutiny.

_"So, what made you leave?"_

_"I saved up enough to buy myself out of my contract. Took me two years."_

_"But what was it that made you decide to leave after all that time?"_

_"I finally realised it was doing things to me."_

Tom waits for B'Elanna to continue her line of questioning, but all he can hear now is the noise of their surroundings encroaching again. Then Chakotay goes on, _"I… changed. I lost interest in things, I didn't feel like me anymore."_

_"And you do, here, now?"_

_"I'm getting there. I hope to, soon… I plan to."_

_"Sounds to me like you were depressed."_

_"Maybe. More than anything, I think I was just… lonely."_

Tom sips his drink again and, despite his best intentions, he finds himself covertly observing Janeway again. Her jaw is set and there is a clear tension holding her features in a closed expression he can't even begin to read.

_"You make that sound like an admission of guilt. Being lonely isn't a crime, you know."_

_"No. It's not."_

_"I've been lonely most of my life - it hardly registers anymore. But here, well, it's different, isn't it?"_

Tom shifts a little and moves his hands to rest on his thighs; glancing down he presses out imaginary creases in the material of his dark blue pants. In his peripheral vision he is aware of Janeway studying him now.

_"Yes. Life here is good – this job, meeting you-"_

_"Look Chakotay,"_ B'Elanna's voice lowers, so it is only just audible. _"I want to be clear here, I'm not looking to get… involved with anyone right now."_

_"I know that." _This time the reply is immediate, and there is only a short pause before Chakotay continues_, "But I'd be honoured if you'd accept my help with your child. I can't think of anything that's more important right now. Raising a child – it's such a… a hopeful thing to do."_

Tom feels his throat go inexplicably dry, and he automatically reaches for his glass again.

_"Yeah. I'm beginning to feel that way about it myself. I won't deny it's been hard, but things here? Well, it's been easier since I got here. It's been better."_

_"Makes sense to me. Things _are_ better here. For the longest time I've been feeling like there's something missing from my life. And here – well, it just seems like this is where I'm meant to be right now." _

Tom watches as Janeway uses both hands to slowly rotate her drink on the table in front of them, her face downcast, seemingly transfixed by the changing reflections of light in the glass. The conversation in the next booth continues, although Chakotay's voice is so quiet and low Tom wonders if he's hearing accurately or if his brain is filling in the gaps.

_"I know you're not looking for romance, B'Elanna."_

The next thing he makes out is, _"What I want right now is to have the chance to play a part in your life and in the life of your child. Whatever part you want. So… I was wondering if maybe you could use a godfather?"_

Tom can't help himself. He twists in his seat and cranes his neck to look around the edge of the thin partition that separates the two booths. He catches sight of them just in time to see B'Elanna smile and say to Chakotay, _"Turns out you're in luck. Job's yours if you want it." _

_"Great. I'll bring my resume over tonight."_

_"As long as you bring dinner too." _

Now the twisting is in Tom's gut as he watches her smile. Her expressive face radiates a playful affection – a flirtatiously playful affection.

_"You're on,"_ Chakotay replies.

Suddenly, an image of his fist connecting with the soft tissue of Chakotay's stomach makes Tom involuntarily clench his right hand. He knows he's risking one of them noticing him as he surreptitiously peers around the edge of the partition, but they seem so engrossed in their conversation – and in each other – that he continues to watch. Then he wishes he hadn't. B'Elanna lifts her hand to Chakotay's face and stretches up to press a kiss to his lips. She draws back and holds his gaze.

Tom knows now that he _really_ should look away, but he can't.

He watches as Chakotay responds by leaning in and pressing a slow, sensual, and unmistakably tender kiss of his own to her cheek.

The contortion in Tom's gut turns to a rising nausea. He forces himself to stop watching them and shifts back so that he is squarely facing the table. He tries to be thankful for the small mercy that he alone witnessed this. Janeway is still as before - unfocussed eyes on the glass in front of her.

Tom knows that if B'Elanna were herself here – herself, alone with a baby on the way - it would be very unlikely that she would be in a frame of mind to entertain romantic propositions. But he also knows from first hand experience that while she might not want romance right now, the surge of pregnancy hormones has heightened certain other of her appetites. Klingon women aren't backward in coming forward when it comes to ensuring all their needs are met. His wife might only be half Klingon, but sometimes half is plenty. Maybe she would consider it unwise to use her new 'friend' to satisfy those needs? He sure as hell hopes so.

Whatever plan they come up with and whatever Janeway decides, Tom silently promises himself that B'Elanna will be the first member of the crew they extract from this charade, even if it means disobeying orders. He'll find a way. Preferably before 'dinner' tonight.

Tom's done here. He needs to move. "I'll get us another drink," he mutters to Janeway.

But she stands immediately, avoiding eye contact. "I'll go," she states, already moving out quickly from her seat in the booth. "Then we plan our next move."

As she makes her way towards the bar, Tom notices that Chakotay is on his way across the room too, slightly ahead of her. Tom follows his path to see Ayala already well ensconced with a drink at the bar.

Then, suddenly, Janeway turns and heads back. She stands over him and leans in so that a strand from her blonde wig tickles his cheek as she delivers her orders close to his ear.

"Talk to B'Elanna while Chakotay is at the bar. See if you can think of _anything_ at all you could say that might get through to her."

And then she's off again, moving slowly back towards her officers. Ayala's eyes flicker over her for a split second as she approaches. His strong features are as composed as ever. She positions herself on a bar stool right next to him. He angles himself away from her and turns to face Chakotay, who is already standing on his other side, demanding his attention.

Tom stops watching Janeway, takes a deep breath and stands. He moves out from his booth to face his wife. Her features are composed but her eyes are distant. Tom isn't prepared for this. He needs longer, but he is also all too aware of the fact that he can't afford to waste an opportunity to talk to her on her own – it may well be the only one he gets for some time.

For several seconds it seems as if she doesn't see him at all – doesn't interpret his presence in front of her as anything to do with her. He shifts on the spot slightly and suddenly she seems to focus. He feels her appraising gaze sweep over him.

"Hi," he says lamely, as his brain goes into meltdown.

She's looking at him now as if he is a complete idiot.

"Can I help you?" she asks flatly.

[TBC]


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Kathryn emerges from the booth, relieved that the conversation she and Tom have just overheard between Chakotay and B'Elanna has ended. This eavesdropping exercise was uncomfortable for her and she is all too aware of how excruciating it must have been for Tom.

She needed to get up, to move – to do something to dislodge Chakotay's quiet admission from the forefront of her thoughts.

So much of what he said took her completely by surprise – even more so than the unpleasant feelings that the unexpected level of intimacy of that conversation inspired from some all-but sealed off part of her heart. It was too much to take in. And now, despite the fact that she decides it would be best to follow her instinct not to acknowledge her reaction at all, for some reason she's finding it harder than usual to school her emotions.

_He's lonely. Depressed. Why haven't I seen it for what it is?_

She exhales sharply through her nose as she makes her way across the room towards the bar.

_His memories have been altered, that wasn't him speaking_, she tells herself.

So why does she feel so damned responsible?

She lifts her chin and reminds herself of their goal here. Information. She needs more information and she can't afford to lose focus now by letting herself get distracted from this mission by issues of a more... personal nature.

But his soft voice still echoes in her mind.

"_Oh no, she knew all right_."

His tone, the bitterness there; it was so heart felt, so real. Surely that might well be how...

Kathryn takes another deep steadying breath and shakes her head slightly in another attempt to force her full attention back to the present.

As she approaches the bar she tries not to stare at her security officer. He looks straight through her. It is unnerving to say the least, but she reminds herself that even if he hadn't had his memories tampered with, he wouldn't recognise her. Even her mother probably wouldn't recognise her right now. Kathryn's fingers find their way to some of the blonde strands that seem unwilling to stay behind her ear and she smoothes them back into place.

As she slides onto a bar stool, she wonders whether she will be as invisible to Chakotay as she is to Ayala. Is it possible they've used some of Chakotay's real memories and manipulated them slightly to create memories of this 'woman' he just mentioned? Could they have used some of his memories of her? Her name? Her physical appearance? If anyone could still pick out her features - her eyes maybe? - under the Doctor's handiwork, it would be her first officer.

Ayala turns his back to her to face his friend. Chakotay reached the bar a few seconds before she did and he's already ordering drinks. Kathryn looks down – she is in no hurry to be served.

She leans forward very slightly, so that she can see Chakotay clearly in profile.

It's impossible not to notice just how relaxed he looks here, how at ease in his own skin, how handsome and how… attractive. This last thought hits her hard. Chakotay is a very attractive man. She wonders when it was she stopped noticing.

Neelix places the first drink in front of him and Chakotay lifts the glass to his lips and drinks. Then she hears him address Ayala.

"We didn't see you come in. How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," his softly spoken friend replies enigmatically.

Chakotay turns his head quickly to look at him. A few seconds elapse before Kathryn hears Ayala speak again.

"Are you two getting it together by any chance? You need to tell me if I'm getting in the way here."

"You're not," Chakotay deflects light-heartedly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. I'm only asking because I had begun to wonder."

Chakotay doesn't reply.

"You know, the other day? When she asked you if you'd go to the hospital with her when the baby comes?"

"She doesn't want to go on her own. That's all."

Chakotay turns back to face the bar again and the two men wait in silence for Neelix to bring B'Elanna's drink.

"Anyway, you never answered my question about whether you're getting it together," Ayala points out.

"Look, Mike. It's not like that. She's not ready for romance right now and neither am I."

Kathryn speculates that Ayala's expression must be enough to convey his scepticism because something makes Chakotay feel the need to offer more.

"Let's just say I've had enough of trying in a situation where my attentions aren't welcome."

"Fair enough. You two just seem… good together though. But, if I'm off the mark here, then just forget I said anything." The younger man sips his drink for a moment before continuing, "Anyway - I've been meaning to ask you – what's the with efficiency monitor? She keeps asking me where you are. She cornered me just now as the shift was ending."

As Kathryn watches him, Chakotay turns to face Ayala again, and she wonders if he is going to notice her now, but he only seems to see his friend.

Chakotay continues, "I wish I knew. B'Elanna thinks she's compiling a case against me - to get me fired. Maybe she's after my office or something."

"Actually, I think she's after something else. She wanted to know 'which establishments we frequent for the purpose of socialising'."

Chakotay frowns and colours slightly, and as he does so, his eyes flicker to the right of Ayala a little, and Janeway feels them on her face. She immediately looks away to focus on a point at the back of the bar, but she knows he is still watching her. She can only see him in her peripheral vision, so it's impossible to make out his expression to know if there is any recognition there, but his eyes are certainly lingering on her face.

"Well, if you're not interested, I'd be happy to fill in for you," the younger man continues.

"Be my guest," Chakotay replies.

"I'd be more than happy to demonstrate my efficiency as often as she likes."

Kathryn looks back towards the two men to find that her first officer is indeed still watching her. He nudges Ayala. It seems Chakotay has noticed that she is well within earshot of their conversation.

Ayala spills a little of his drink. "Hey!"

"Sorry," replies Chakotay as he holds Kathryn's gaze for another beat. Then he smiles at her. She finds this surprisingly unsettling – not knowing what's going on behind those dark eyes – but she recovers herself just in time to offer a small smile in return.

Then Chakotay picks up his and B'Elanna's drinks and motions for his friend to follow him across the room. As they move away Kathryn hears Ayala remark, "And you know, I swear I heard someone say she'd worked all through the dayshift the other day as well. Does that woman never sleep?"

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>Kathryn sets the drinks down and meets Tom's direct gaze. She quickly settles back into the chair beside him and leans in close. "So? How did it go? Did she react to anything you said at all?"<p>

Tom's face is flushed. "No," is all he seems willing to offer at first.

Janeway looks questioningly at him.

He continues, "For a moment I thought there was a spark of recognition, but... I really couldn't say for sure. I said I'd seen her at work last night and mentioned I'd heard about a starship called _Voyager_, and that there might be a good position for a capable engineer available if she was interested. I asked what experience she had. She certainly got a chance to see me close up. I know this disguise is good, but it's not _that_ good. B'Elanna would recognise me immediately."

To spare him further distress, Kathryn is eager not to let him dwell too long on this exchange, so she presses on immediately with the next phase. "We need to get at least one of them back to the ship as soon as we can so the Doctor can start working on how to reverse whatever's been done to them."

"Unless you have some secret captain-super-powers you've been hiding for the last six years something tells me we're not going to be able to overpower the three of them. That's not the plan here, is it?" Tom eyes her suspiciously.

She purses her lips and chooses to simply shoot him a withering look in response to his insubordination. Then she leans out a little to check her three officers are still in the adjacent booth. "We wait until they split up and we pick off whichever one seems to head in a direction that'll afford us the best chance of beaming them out unnoticed." Tom looks as if he's about to object but she continues. "The habitat area would-" Kathryn breaks off as she notices Chakotay and Ayala rising from their seats. She and Tom are both instantly silent. They can see the two men now as they make their way out of the booth and stand at the far end of the table facing B'Elanna.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," B'Elanna exclaims. "Finally. It's only taken you, what, eight weeks?"

Ayala laughs. "What can I say? They gave us work gear. I haven't needed much else."

"Well, I'm glad you're finally making the effort. I was starting to think you slept in that outfit. I'm sure those are the clothes you arrived here in. They are, aren't they, Chakotay?"

Chakotay raises his hands. "Hey, don't try and bring me into this."

"You should take him with you, Mike," B'Elanna adds. "There isn't a clothing outlet here he hasn't already checked out, on one or other of his little reconnaissance missions."

Ayala laughs again. "You're not wrong there. I've already told him he's gonna need a bigger apartment soon just to house his ever-expanding wardrobe, not to mention that home-fitness suite that seems to have grown every time I go round."

Kathryn watches as Chakotay flushes slightly.

"Maybe I did go a little overboard when I first got here. But, in my defence, I arrived here with nothing but the clothes I had on."

"And, unlike some people, he isn't still wearing them," B'Elanna quips, raising her eyebrows at Ayala.

Ayala makes a face and Chakotay flashes a smile at B'Elanna – a dazzling smile. Kathryn finds herself a little thrown again. Has she stopped noticing his smile because it's become so familiar she simply doesn't see it anymore? Or does she actually see it less these days?

Then Chakotay says to his friend, "I'll walk down to the commercial district with you."

Ayala grins at him. "Don't tell me you're still not done-"

"To the _food_ hall," Chakotay cuts him off. "I want to go to that place the shift supervisor recommended, where you can get fresh fruit and vegetables. Sounded like it might be worth a try. You're welcome to join us, B'Elanna."

"Thanks," B'Elanna smiles, "but I've got a routine check-up at the hospital in a little while, so I'll hang on here a bit longer, and then I intend to do some serious sleeping. See you later."

As the two men take their leave, Janeway turns to Tom.

"Looks like we're in luck. She'll have to use the transport to get to the hospital. You can approach her on that narrow, covered walkway that leads there. It's unlikely to be crowded at this time. I'll follow Chakotay and Ayala, see if they split up and I can pick one of them off."

Paris nods his acknowledgment and Janeway stands immediately. She notices that Tom seems suddenly more alert and energised again. He shifts a little in his seat so that he can watch B'Elanna from around the edge of the partition separating the booths.

Then he nods to Kathryn. "I'll contact you as soon as I get her back to the ship," he says, just above a whisper, as she prepares to leave.

"Good luck," she offers, trying not to let her mind fast-forward to one possible outcome of this scenario – namely the one that involves an irate B'Elanna tied to a biobed by a Doctor who can't find a way to reverse whatever's been done to her.

Kathryn quickly turns on her heels and follows her officers out of the bar.

[TBC]


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Janeway's only been gone a few minutes when she hears her communicator chirp. She stops her pursuit of Chakotay and Ayala down this featureless street, steps just inside the dingy entrance tunnel to a multiple storey building and presses her back up against the wall.

"Go ahead, Tom."

"_Captain, we're back on _Voyager_, but it didn't exactly go to plan." _

She can hear a commotion in the background. It's clear that things on board are far from uneventful.

Tom continues, _"She put up quite a bit of resistance and then she yelled for security too. Suddenly they were everywhere. I just had time to call for an emergency beam out and we've got her in sickbay. But they know we're back in orbit now, and we're under attack."_

"Can you get me out of here?" Kathryn asks, already suspecting she's not going to like the answer.

There's another loud noise and a few seconds later he goes on_, "No, Captain, 'fraid not. We've had to raise shields and any second now we're gonna have to withdraw. Looks like you're on your own for a while. I'll contact you again as soon as we can get you out of there."_

"Understood. I'll be waiting for your call, Lieutenant."

Kathryn steps back out of the unlit entrance and quickly scans for Chakotay and Ayala. She sets off in pursuit immediately she sees them, a little further ahead now, their relaxed gait contrasting sharply to her own furtive progress along this dusty street. Given how damned contented the whole crew seem here, these two probably aren't worrying about much more than what to have for dinner tonight, whereas Tom's message means that Kathryn's going to have to figure out a whole new plan on her own.

Then she sighs as she wonders whether it should worry her that seeing the crew this contended seems so wrong. What does that say about their lives on _Voyager_? – their lives in the community she is responsible for leading?

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>That evening finds Kathryn in the same café, hovering in the shadows near the exit, planning her next move. Determined though she is to be optimistic, even she has to admit that the day hasn't brought her much success.<p>

She followed Chakotay and Ayala, waited until they split up and was just about to approach her first officer when a group of six armed security personnel appeared from nowhere. She ducked into another entrance, presuming she was their target, only to watch as they surrounded Chakotay and marched him away, despite his vehement protestations. His surprise at his detention appeared to be just as great as hers.

She couldn't risk following too closely, but waited where she could observe the entrance to the building they took him to. After several hours, she saw Ayala arrive and go in. Then another hour or so passed before both men reappeared. They spoke briefly and then headed off in different directions. Kathryn followed Chakotay, who was looking as angry as she'd ever seen him. She had trouble keeping up with him as he stormed away from the building. She managed to stick with him and tailed him at a safe distance as far as the café, and now she's in the process of deciding what to do next.

He's at the bar, having an animated conversation with Neelix and the bar owner. Chakotay's anxiety is all too evident.

After a few more minutes, she sees that he and Neelix are working their way around the room talking to the occupants of each table. Kathryn theorises that they are probably trying to find out anything they can about B'Elanna's disappearance. Observing Chakotay's progress, she works out that here by the exit, she's likely to be one of the last people he gets to.

Sure enough, ten or so minutes later he's in front of her. His appearance is now completely at odds with how happy and relaxed he'd been as she'd followed him out of this place this morning.

He makes eye contact immediately, and, for a moment, she thinks she sees a flicker of something – recognition or curiosity perhaps? – but it passes, and then his face just looks tired and worried. Being in close physical proximity to this incarnation of Chakotay feels different, very different. He may well be more at ease in his own skin here, but Kathryn discovers his presence seems to have the effect of unnerving her. She feels her heart speed up a little as the adrenaline inspired by her anticipation of their interaction kicks in.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to disturb you," he begins, "but I wonder if you remember seeing my friend here this morning – a young pregnant woman, forehead ridges, dark hair, about your height?"

Kathryn schools her features into an appropriately reflective expression. "Yes, I think I do." Coming directly after his familiar rich tones, she is struck once more by the strangeness of her own altered voice. It sounds all wrong and she silently curses the fact she agreed to the modulator.

He perks up noticeably, clearly desperate for any information about B'Elanna. "Did you see her leave, by any chance?"

"Yes, she left a little before I did."

His dark eyes search her face – assessing her credibility perhaps? "Do you remember if there was anyone with her? Did you see anyone follow her out?"

"May I ask why?"

"She's disappeared. A group of security personnel witnessed a man grab her on her way to the transport."

"How terrible. I'm so sorry to hear that," Kathryn replies, her compassion for his feelings genuine.

"Did you see anyone following her?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"Well, thank you for listening." His disappointment is evident. Then his expression alters subtly as his eyes linger on her face and her hair. A slight frown causes one side of his brow to furrow for a split second. Kathryn glances towards the exit, shifting her weight slightly, and then his eyes find hers again. "Are you leaving?"

"I'm just going back to the habitat district."

Kathryn notices his hand moving out towards her lower back, but he pulls it back to his side as he speaks, "Please, don't walk alone."

She holds his gaze, and his level of discomfort appears to increase as she replies, "There are security posts at regular intervals all the way. I'm sure I'll be fine."

He looks down and tugs on his ear. "Look… I don't want to interfere, but until they've caught this man, you'd do well to be careful." Then he meets her gaze again. "I'm heading home myself – to see if this is all some terrible mix-up and my friend's just gone back to her apartment and didn't hear the door when the police came to look for her. If you like, I can walk with you to the transport."

"Well, I guess if you're going that way anyway..." Kathryn smiles at him, already thinking about how she might use this opportunity.

She precedes him out of the café and he falls into step beside her – but then he hesitates and looks uncomfortable for a split second. Perhaps, on reflection, he's actually unsure if he should impose his company on her? Whatever internal debate rages momentarily, he seems to decide he shouldn't let her go alone, and matches her pace again. Then he turns to look down at her as they walk along side by side. "It's Chakotay by the way. I work the nightshift at the power plant."

"Shannon. I've just started on the day shift."

"Good to meet you, Shannon. And it's curfew soon, so you should hurry."

"If you work the nightshift, shouldn't you already be at work?"

"I called in sick."

She shoots him a look that invites an explanation.

His eyes leave her face and he looks at the walkway ahead of them and eventually answers her unspoken question. "I need to find out what happened to my friend. If I get detained for breaking the curfew, so be it."

"I see. Well, I'd be careful if I were you. You won't be much good to her if you get yourself arrested."

He sighs heavily in response to her comment. "Actually, I've already been detained for questioning all afternoon. When they contacted the plant, the supervisor told the police that she left work with me after our shift, so the police considered me their first suspect." He runs one hand through his hair and shoots her a sideways look, adding, "Although I can assure you I had nothing to do with her disappearance."

"And they released you?"

"Eventually, yes. But not until someone could provide me with an alibi, and even then they insisted on confirming that alibi with the surveillance footage from the commercial district."

"Well, let's hope they'll be just as thorough in their search for your friend."

He doesn't look convinced. "Let's hope so."

"You don't think they'll find her?" she probes.

"I can't say I'm feeling too confident in their ability to conduct an investigation right now."

Kathryn quirks an eyebrow. "Why not?"

He hesitates and then explains, "The surveillance footage the police had of her leaving the café shows that there was a man following her. It seemed obvious to me that he might well be the same man that grabbed her."

"But they arrested you?"

"Yes," he sighs again. This has clearly been a long day for him too. "They didn't seem to want to admit they'd got the wrong man. I had to wait for the security personnel who saw her being abducted to come down and confirm it wasn't me they saw. It took hours. All that time they could've been looking for this man."

They arrive at the transport station and stand side by side in the small queue. Kathryn watches him frown – he seems to be lost in thought for a moment. Then she offers, "I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult for you. You must be terribly worried about her."

He looks at her again. "Yes, I am."

"So, you're trying to find out about the man you think abducted her?"

"Yes. I recognised him on the surveillance footage the police had – the man who followed her out of the bar. He began work on the nightshift in the section next to mine last night, I think. Tall, blonde, prominent forehead ridges. That's as much as I remember."

Kathryn looks up as the transport pulls in and the doors creak open. The carriage they find themselves aligned with is half empty, so there are lots of free seats, but it's a short trip, so they take up position next to each other in the standing section. These transports are clearly well used and not particularly well maintained. _They could do with a refit and a clean_, she thinks as it pulls off slowly.

A few minutes into the journey, Kathryn is aware of him watching her. Then he says, "You were in the cafe this morning too, weren't you? I remember seeing you at the bar."

"Yes."

"Did you see the man I'm referring to?"

Kathryn swallows. "I spoke to him, yes."

"You did?" He leans in closer, his eyes suddenly alive again, and Kathryn takes a steadying breath and makes a decision about where to go from here.

"Yes," she holds his gaze and lowers her voice to just above a whisper. "Look, I don't want to speak out of turn here, but I don't think you'll find your friend in her apartment, and I think I might know something about this man that could help you in your search."

"What?" He's clearly unpleasantly surprised by this. "Why didn't you say anything before now? If you know anything at all that might be useful, _please_ tell me."

"We're here," Kathryn states. She gestures towards the opening doors as the transport stops at the habitat district. She moves to disembark and he follows immediately behind her. When she stops and turns around, she finds him looming over her, his eyes burning into her with a fierce intensity. She steels herself and continues to explain. "I didn't want to risk anyone overhearing what I have to say. Especially not the security personnel – I don't want to get drawn into the investigation. I don't want any trouble. I'd be prepared to tell you what I know if we can go somewhere free of surveillance cameras where we won't be overheard."

He watches her for a few seconds in silence, his expression unreadable, then replies, "My apartment is only a couple of blocks."

"Fine. Let's go."

He doesn't move. "But why all the mystery? Why can't you just tell me whatever you know right now?"

"I'll explain why, I promise." Kathryn looks into his eyes, hoping he may see something in hers that will lead him to trust her.

"As soon as we're off the street?"

"Yes, but not before."

A few more seconds elapse as he continues to watch her, until he appears to take a decision. Perhaps he realises she isn't going to be persuaded.

"All right. It's this way."

He leads the way and she follows, noticing the grime worn into the Quarran sidewalks and marvelling yet again at how the perception of her crew has been so extensively tampered with. This place that they seem determined to interpret as a paradise promising happiness for all is, in fact, one hell of a gloomy, polluted, downright miserable industrial settlement, with very little to recommend it.

Kathryn finds herself taking advantage of the opportunity the short walk offers to probe a little. "Is she your girlfriend, the young woman?"

He eyes her suspiciously before answering, "We've only known each other a few months."

_I should leave this_, she thinks. But then he shoots her another sideways glance and, while she has eye contact, she asks, "And?" Then she watches his face and wonders if he'll volunteer anything.

"It's complicated," he replies quietly, his eyes focussed on the sidewalk ahead.

_If you only knew the half of it, _Kathryn thinks.

They're already at the entrance to his block, so she follows him up the steps and they step into the elevator together. He is wary of her now; she can see him still eyeing her suspiciously in her peripheral vision. She isn't surprised – she's painfully aware that the yarn she just spun wasn't particularly convincing, and she's more than a little nervous about how he'll react if she tries to tell him the truth straight away.

But this has to end soon, and, contrary to what some people might think, Kathryn does actually know sometimes these days when it's time to ask for help. If she's going to figure all this out and work out a new plan to get the crew out of here, she isn't going to be able to do it on her own. She can't just wait for Tom and _Voyager_ to get back. Chakotay is her best bet right now. Regardless of the unsettling things she overheard him say to B'Elanna this morning, if she can get through to anyone, surely it's him.

By the time they exit the elevator on the seventh floor, he's flushed, clearly confused by her mysterious claims and probably more than a little suspicious of a woman who will enter the flat of a total stranger on her own at night. But, he unlocks his door, calls for lights, and motions for her to precede him inside.

[TBC]


	7. Chapter 7

AN: This chapter fought me every inch of the way. Thanks to northernexposure for turning this around so quickly for me, as well as to Photogirl1890 for casting her eagle eyes over it despite its total JCishness.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Seven<span>

The door to his apartment opens into a corridor. Halfway up its short length there are two doors facing each other, and at the end Kathryn can already see the living area. She turns and Chakotay gestures for her to make her way on in.

The living room is a modest size, neutrally decorated, and has dull brownish hard flooring. Opposite the entrance to the room there is a large window, with a small grey sofa positioned underneath it. Pushed up into the near left hand corner of the room there is some sort of fitness equipment, partially covered with a towel, and to the right of the window there is a door, presumably to a balcony. The far right hand side of the room is arched into a kitchen area and in the centre of the room there is a small grey table with four chairs.

Kathryn stops at the table and turns to find Chakotay standing just inside the room, hands perched on his hips. From the look on his face, if he still has his characteristic patience, it's about to run out.

"So?" he prompts.

Kathryn holds his gaze. In the absence of any plan other than to somehow gain his trust, she decides to start small. "His name is Lieutenant Tom Paris, and he's the pilot of large starship."

"Then what was he doing at the power plant and where has he taken B'Elanna?"

"That's going to take quite a bit of explaining," Kathryn offers, hoping he might invite her to sit down, as it would give her a few more seconds to think. But he just stands and waits.

"I'm listening," he states, his voice even.

"B'Elanna was brought to this planet against her will," she begins slowly. "Her memories were altered, so that she'd forget her real life."

He looks sceptical to say the least. "And this man, _Paris_. Why didn't he just explain this to her, if he had nothing to hide?"

"He tried. But she didn't believe him."

"So, he dragged her off by force?"

Maintaining eye contact all the time, she presses on, "Only to get _help _for her, Chakotay, back on the ship." The tension in the air between them rises, and his brow furrows slightly when she uses his name. "There are other people in this city who have been brought here against their will too. Other people Tom Paris wants to help."

"And just where exactly do _you_ fit into all this?" he asks warily.

Kathryn takes a deep breath and a step towards him. She realises her fingers have been playing with the strap of the small bag that is slung across her body and she forces herself to stop fiddling with it, letting her arms drop to her sides. She raises her chin and looks up into Chakotay's eyes. "Because Tom was following my orders. I am his commanding officer. We both took jobs here yesterday so we could look for our people."

"You're from this ship too," he deadpans, his lips pursing slightly.

"Yes. It's called _Voyager_," Kathryn says slowly, wishing once again that she sounded more like herself and less like Kes. She silently curses Tom Paris for putting that idea into her head. "And, when they contact me, I'll be able to prove it to you. Until then, I need somewhere to hide, since it won't be long before the Quarran authorities come looking for me. They already know Tom and I arrived here together."

"Why should I believe any of this?"

"I know it's a lot to take in," Kathryn placates.

"What's to stop me calling the security forces now?" he says, his eyes straying over her shoulder to the communication terminal mounted on the wall near the arch into the kitchen area. "They could force you to contact this ship of yours, tell them its position, so they can rescue B'Elanna."

"You can do that if you believe it's the right thing to do, but I promise you, they'll never find _Voyager_. We know how to evade their sensors – it's a sophisticated ship."

He stares at her for a moment, then asks, "Where are you headed on this ship?"

"We're just trying to get home. But home is thousands of light years away. We've already been travelling for several years."

Then, suddenly, the noise of Kathryn's sub-dermal communicator chirping reverberates in the air between them. It startles her, despite the fact she's been waiting all day for Tom or Harry to get in touch. "That's my people trying to contact me now."

Chakotay's expression gives little away.

She looks down at her arm as she answers. "Janeway here."

"_Captain… we're having trouble… a signal through_." She's pretty sure it's Harry.

The line crackles and fades to nothing but static. Kathryn looks up to find Chakotay is staring at her intently, and she is unnerved once again by the strangeness of looking into those familiar brown eyes and not seeing trust or affection or...

Then her thoughts are interrupted by more static, and a few seconds later, _"…should be able… get back to you… a few minutes. B'Elanna's... idea of how we can… this interference… patient…"_

At the mention of B'Elanna's name, Kathryn sees Chakotay's eyes flicker. "When they sort out their signal, you might be able to speak to B'Elanna, and I'll be able to prove to you that the things I'm saying are true. Will you at least wait until you've heard what they've got to say before you decide whether to turn me in?"

He studies her in silence for a long moment. "All right," he replies cautiously. "Let me speak to B'Elanna. Then I'll make up my mind about whether to believe any of this."

He motions towards the table and chairs and she accepts the offer of a seat, slipping the strap of her small bag over her head and placing it on the seat beside her. Kathryn sits down facing the large window. Given they are on the seventh floor, it ought to afford a reasonable view out over the city, but even though Chakotay hasn't drawn the blinds, from this far back in the room, she can only make out lights from the housing block opposite. He takes the chair facing her.

"Thank you," she replies, hoping this means he's prepared to entertain the possibility she's telling the truth. But, irrespective of how well he currently knows himself, Kathryn knows this man. She knows he finds deception of any kind very hard to deal with. The Vori, Riley Fraser, the look in his eye after they left him out of the plan to flush out Jonas all those years ago… And, of course, before that there was Seska, and Paris, and Tuvok. Chakotay tends to take deception personally. Then again, that list might be enough to make anyone doubt themselves, and Kathryn is painfully aware that he won't take kindly to her telling him his whole new life here is a lie. She suppresses a sigh, wishing this task had not fallen to her.

She knows she shouldn't allow free reign to her curiosity about the life he's been building here and the one he believes he left behind, but her desire to buy herself a few more minutes before she has to tell him any more wins out. "Where did you work before you came to Quarra?"

"I was part of a terraforming project."

"In this system?"

"No. It was light years from here, on an isolated planet in a pretty remote and unpredictable region of space."

"Why did you leave, if you don't mind me asking?" she risks, despite the small voice in her head telling her to stop.

He sits back in the chair and rests his forearms on the table, hands gently curled, thumbs resting on his middle fingers. His movements appear deliberate, as if adopting this posture will allow him to centre himself. Then he looks up to meet Kathryn's gaze and continues. "I needed a change of scenery."

"You didn't want to see the project through?"

"For years, yes, I did."

"I see. Well, I'm sure it can't be uncommon to feel like moving on eventually. Professional relationships can be hard to maintain in isolation for so long."

Something flickers through his eyes and he replies quickly, "I was part of a strong team professionally. No, my reasons for moving on were personal."

Kathryn feels the heat rising under all this makeup. "And how are you finding Quarra so far?"

"Life on this planet is good – was good – until this morning."

"But, your work – I can't imagine your job here is anywhere near as stimulating as working on a terraforming project."

"My job's fine for now."

"You said you work the nightshift?"

"Yes. There are plenty of opportunities for promotion here. I have every intention of making supervisor by the end of the year."

Kathryn realises it's strange to hear him express ambition. This realisation surprises and saddens her in equal measure. Then something in his eyes makes her wonder whether he is beginning to be suspicious of her interest in his work, so she decides not to take this further and just says, "I see."

There is a long pause, during which she begins to feel a little anxious about how they are going to fill the time until Harry gets back in touch. Then Chakotay's gaze strays to her hairline before their eyes meet again and he looks decidedly uncomfortable. He squints slightly, and his lips move as if to form a word, but then nothing comes.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Just my mind playing tricks on me," he replies quietly.

Kathryn quirks an eyebrow, and he responds, "You remind me of someone."

"A pleasant memory, I hope?" she risks.

He locks eyes with her and the next few seconds that elapse in silence seem to last a lifetime.

"Yes," he finally replies, his soft voice having lowered in pitch considerably.

Then he shifts in his seat a little, before standing and excusing himself to go to the bathroom. As soon as he's disappeared down the short corridor, Kathryn feels the need to get up.

She moves restlessly around his living area, taking in the details of his life here. On the coffee table next to the sofa there are several neat piles of data padds carrying the company logo. The contraption half covered by a towel she noticed earlier turns out to be a compact but rather basic looking rowing machine, and there are also two small sets of weights lying on the floor on the far side of the sofa. It's clear he's chosen to spend part of his salary on fitness equipment – equipment that is far less sophisticated than anything he had access to for free on _Voyager_.

She doesn't dare stray down the corridor, but she speculates that if she did, in his bedroom she'd find evidence of the recent multiple purchases of clothing that B'Elanna and Ayala were teasing him about. Kathryn reflects for a moment that probably everyone on the bridge crew is familiar with every single item in the civilian micro-wardrobe Chakotay possesses on _Voyager_. She wonders if it should strike her as strange that he usually seems so disinterested in his appearance and possesses fewer off-duty clothes than Tuvok – but it never has. On the contrary, what seems strange is that he _does_ seem interested in such things in this existence.

Although the beautiful, lush green, wide leafed plant standing under the window at the other end of the sofa catches Kathryn's eye, her overriding impression is that this apartment lacks the warmth of Chakotay's quarters on _Voyager_. She finds herself wondering if he meditates here, or whether whoever did this to his memory chose to rob him of that part of his identity too.

Then he reappears and heads towards the arch into the kitchen area. He offers her a drink and she accepts, and a few moments later, as he hands her the glass, for a fraction of a second his fingers brush hers. She realises it's the first time she's touched him for over two months and she's struck by a sudden pang of longing for her friend, for the man he was – still _is_, she reminds herself. For a crazy moment she just wants to reach out and touch him again, squeeze his arm, press her hand to his chest – anything – just to reassure herself he's here with her in body, if not in spirit.

But then he gestures for her to sit at the table again, and, as she is still eager to distract him from formulating any difficult questions, Kathryn immediately attempts conversation. "You clearly have an interest in maintaining your fitness levels – is there a particular sport you enjoy?"

"No one sport in particular. I've just been getting back into shape."

Kathryn smiles and replies, "I sympathise. I know how hard it can be to find time to exercise. Didn't you get much free time with your last job?"

He doesn't answer this time, but leaves her last inconsequential question to fade to nothing in the space that separates them. It would seem he's already had enough of her attempts at small talk.

Eventually he speaks, "Look, I've said I'm prepared to wait for this ship to call you back, but it'd help me if you could make a start now by explaining a little more about what exactly is going on here."

Her mind starts racing, searching for the best way to start, when, thankfully, right on cue, her sub-dermal communicator chirps three times.

"Looks like they've made some progress with the signal," she says to Chakotay, the bright tone she's adopted sounding more than a little false even to her own ears. Then she answers the hail. "Janeway here."

"_Are you okay, Captain?"_ Harry's voice comes over far more clearly this time.

She holds Chakotay's gaze as she replies, "For the time being. Can you get me out of here?"

"_No, Captain. We're eight light years away."_

She's intrigued. "How are you transmitting this signal that far?"

It's the Doctor who answers this time_. "We're using a triaxialating frequency on a covariant subspace band. It was B'Elanna's idea."_

Kathryn watches Chakotay's face as this information registers, and then she says, "How is she, Doctor?"

"_She's responded well to treatment. Lieutenant Paris is taking her on a tour of the ship right now to help her regain all of her memories. It seems to be working."_

Chakotay's expression gives little away; Kathryn has no idea what he's making of this exchange.

Then Harry's voice comes again, _"Have you located anyone else from the crew?"_

Kathryn inhales quickly and decides it's time to take the plunge. "As a matter of fact, I'm sitting with Commander Chakotay right now." She holds his gaze and watches as his eyes widen.

"_How is he?"_

"More than a little suspicious."

The chair makes a loud sound scraping on the hard flooring as Chakotay suddenly stands. He takes a few steps towards the window, and then turns and watches her, his dark eyes flashing.

"Chakotay would like to speak to B'Elanna."

"_Understood,"_ Harry replies.

Kathryn holds Chakotay's gaze as the seconds elapse. Then B'Elanna's voice comes over the connection, loud and clear. _"Chakotay. It's me."_

He immediately breaks eye contact with Kathryn, his brow furrows and he studies the floor as he speaks. "B'Elanna, are you all right?"

"_Yes. I'm fine,"_ she reassures. "_Chakotay, you need to listen to her – to Captain Janeway."_

"You mean you believe them? Everything she's claiming – you think it's true?"

"_Yes. When we get back into orbit and we can bring you aboard, you can see for yourself. It's true. This is our home, here on this ship, on Voyager."_ There is a pause, and, when he doesn't immediately respond, she continues, _"Promise me you'll listen to her?"_

"All right. I'll listen," he replies, but the confusion he's battling is all too clear to Kathryn.

She refocuses her attention on Harry. "Harry, how soon can you get back into transporter range?"

"_We need a couple more days to finish repairs. What about the shield grid?" _

"When I saw the inside of the plant yesterday, I had an idea how to shut it down. Until I get back to you, let's maintain comm. silence, just in case we're being monitored."

"_Understood. Good luck, Captain." _

The silence in the room is suddenly deafening. Chakotay's eyes are boring into her. Kathryn waits.

"Why did you call me 'Commander'?" he challenges.

Kathryn stands too now and takes a step around the table towards him. "Because that's who you are – you're second in command of the Federation Starship _Voyager_."

"So, you're saying that_ I_ was brought here by force too? That my memories have been altered in some way too?" He averts his eyes and runs one hand roughly through his hair and then shakes his head slightly.

Kathryn presses on. "_Yes_. You've been subjected to some sort of extremely sophisticated memory manipulation. There are more then a hundred members of _Voyager_'s crew working at that power plant. My crew – _our_ crew." He reconnects with her gaze when she says this, and she continues, "And when the ship gets here, I'll be able to prove it to you."

"So, you'd have me believe B'Elanna and I are both members of your crew – the crew of this starship – and you're the Captain?"

"Yes. You heard what my officer said. They just need two days to complete repairs, then they'll come back for me _– for us_ – and you'll be able to judge for yourself. But, until then, I need to hide somewhere where the Quarran police won't find me. Will you help me?" Kathryn holds his gaze, determined to keep any hint of desperation out of her voice.

"You're asking me to trust you, without offering any _real_ proof of anything you've said. How do I know you aren't the ones who've modified B'Elanna's memory?"

Janeway sighs. He's right of course. The call from _Voyager_ doesn't prove anything conclusively. Then she makes another decision. She has nothing to lose now – if she can't convince him pretty soon, it's clear he'll turn her in. "I think there might be something that would help convince you."

"All right. I'm still listening."

"The Doctor disguised me – I have a dermal regenerator and I can reverse the work he did, if you agree to let me stay here out of sight."

"Convince me first. Then I'll decide if you can stay."

She realises the weakness of her own position and that this is the most he's going to concede.

"All right." First she searches with her fingertips for the pins securing the blond wig and extracts them. Then she pulls the wig off, together with the mesh that was holding her hair in place underneath. Despite this tense situation, she can't help but feel relieved to shed the synthetic strands. She tosses the wig unceremoniously onto the table and shakes out her hair, running her fingers through it to try to revive it and disperse the static electricity she can feel lingering. Next, she takes the dermal regenerator out of the small bag on the chair, and makes her way past him to stand in front of the mirror she's spotted, which is mounted on the wall near the window. He follows, and she can feel him standing behind her – see his reflection as he watches her move the device slowly over her face. Then she changes the setting to deactivate the voice modulator. She pauses to reacquaint herself with her natural reflection - her face feels wonderfully smooth and light without the ridged protrusions on her forehead and chin. She smoothes her palms across her cheeks and shakes her hair out a little more, all the time feeling Chakotay close behind her, but choosing not to focus on his partial reflection in the top corner of the mirror. Kathryn can feel her own heart speeding up again. She takes a steadying breath before she turns to face him.

When she does, she discovers he's moved closer still, so that there is only a tiny space separating them.

Looking up into his eyes, she is fascinated by the succession of emotions that pass through his familiar features. There is recognition for sure – but the confusion and the shock she sees there set her racing heart beating even faster. It's enough to make her hold her breath.

His right hand comes up towards her cheek. And then, with what looks like a mixture of disbelief and undiluted horror, he whispers, "_Kathryn_?"

[TBC]


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Chakotay's fingers graze her cheek. "It's you? You're _here_."

Kathryn swallows, wondering what on earth she's done for a moment.

Before she can say anything, he asks, "Why? What is all this? Why have you come here, Kathryn? I don't understand."

"I think I can explain," she says, her own unaltered voice sounding strange now to her ears – welcome, but strange all the same.

"Have you come to ask me to go _back_?" he asks, and the look of anguish contorting his handsome features tugs sharply on her heartstrings. His fingers move to the newly revealed skin on her forehead, while his other hand comes up and he gently caresses her temple. Then he touches her hair – he can't seem to help himself. "Your eyes…" he says, "I thought I was seeing things before." His brow furrows. "You came all the way here looking for me?"

The feeling of him caressing her face with the sort of touch she's only ever experienced once before from his fingers sends an illicit shiver down her spine, and her better judgement tells her she should pull away, but she remains perfectly still.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I came looking for all of my crew," she qualifies.

His hands drop to rest on her shoulders, and he's still looking at her face with heart-stopping tenderness, but Kathryn isn't sure who he's seeing. "I thought I'd never see you again," he says, his voice impossibly low and full of emotion.

"For a while it seemed that way – until we located you on this planet," she replies.

His eyes sweep over her face again and then he challenges, "Why all this deception? Why not just tell me you were here?"

Kathryn collects herself and her heart sinks a little. "Chakotay, it isn't that simple – I don't know what you think you remember about me, but you have to believe me when I say we have evidence that your memories have been altered. I imagine some of them may be real, but not all of them. We need to get you back to the ship, then the Doctor will be able to restore your real memories."

"I remember everything, Kathryn," he says, squeezing her shoulders slightly. "We worked together on that project for years. We were the best management team they'd ever had. It's only been a couple of months; I'm unlikely to forget."

"We most certainly do work together. But not on a terraforming project. There _is_ no project, Chakotay. No isolated planet. Those are _false_ memories that have been implanted to replace your real ones."

He lets go of her shoulders and steps back, frowning.

She continues, "Like I said before, we serve together on the starship _Voyager_. You're my first officer." Kathryn pauses and then adds, "But you were right about one thing: we certainly do make quite a team."

"This isn't making sense, Kathryn." He shakes his head.

"Seeing me now, like this, after everything I've told you: does it bring _any_ memories of your life on _Voyager_ to the surface?" she asks, desperately hoping she can get through to him.

"Oh, I remember you all right. But you're asking me to believe that you're not Kathryn – that you're someone else entirely. That you're not the woman I remember."

Kathryn raises her eyebrows. "Well, that depends on what it is you think you remember. My name _is_ Kathryn, yes, Kathryn Janeway. And we've known each other for six years."

"I can honestly say you're the last person in the galaxy I expected to see here," he says, his thoughts clearly jumping from one thing to another. Then he fixes her with a look so full of obvious hurt that she swallows back a rush of guilt, even though she has no idea why he looks so… so beaten. Then he adds quietly, "I'm sorry about the way I left. But it had to be like that, or I'd probably still be there. If you had any idea how hard I've tried to move on…"

She inhales deeply and fixes him with a level gaze. "Chakotay, you need to try to focus on what I've told you about how your memories have been altered. Remember what B'Elanna said."

"You're telling me I can't trust my own mind?"

Kathryn feels her stress levels raise another notch. This isn't going well. "Just give yourself some time to take all this in."

"Are you asking me to believe that everything I remember about our lives on the Amanecer project – everything I remember about _you_ – is a lie; that it never happened?"

"I don't even know what or where this project is. I've never been there, and neither have you."

He throws his hands up in exasperation. "Then how is it that I know you? If someone has altered my memories-"

"When I said I think I can explain, I meant that I think we'll find they've used parts of your real memories to construct a past for you to explain your presence on Quarra. We know they haven't included any of your memories of _Voyager_, but it seems they have used some of your memories of me – or of my appearance at least."

"You don't just _look_ like her – it's you." His hand rises towards her cheek again, but he pulls it back. "You _are_ the woman I remember."

"Yes and no," Kathryn replies with a wistful half-smile.

They stand facing each other, eyes locked, until suddenly they are both startled by a loud buzzing. The second time it sounds, Chakotay seems to come to his senses and goes to the communication panel mounted on one side of the arch into the kitchen. It buzzes a third time and he presses something on the panel. Mike Ayala's face appears on the small screen.

While he is distracted by the call, Kathryn takes the opportunity to sit down, choosing the sofa this time, as she discovers her legs are close to giving way. It's hours since she's eaten anything, and she's been running on adrenaline for too long already.

"D'you find out anything?" Ayala asks.

"Not exactly – maybe. You?" Chakotay replies.

"No. I found someone who overheard B'Elanna talking to that man in the café, while we were at the bar, but that's all. What do you mean by 'not exactly'?"

"Long story."

"I spoke to the supervisor and got myself the night off. You didn't need to call in sick, you know; you could've done the same. And I got you some stuff, for dinner. Figured you weren't going to go back to the commercial district after all the fun you had there this morning. I'll bring it up and you can tell me this 'long story'."

Chakotay looks over at Kathryn and he hesitates for a second, then turns back and replies, "All right. Just come up – door's open."

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>Half an hour later and Kathryn is still sitting on the sofa, while Chakotay and Ayala busy themselves preparing a meal in the kitchen area. Watching them like this amplifies the unpleasant feeling she's had ever since she and Tom beamed down – the feeling she's opened a window onto a part of Chakotay's life, her crew's life, that she is excluded from.<p>

Chakotay introduced her as Kathryn, and Ayala reacted quite clearly to hearing the name, immediately looking to Chakotay for an explanation. She felt sure it was because Chakotay's Kathryn from the terraforming project must have been mentioned before between the two men, not because her security officer remembers her or his life on _Voyager_. Then Ayala listened in silence while she explained who she really is and she tried to convince him that, together with the majority of her crew, he and Chakotay have been brainwashed and put to work here.

The men's voices carry easily from the kitchen area, but they've barely spoken since going in there, and when they have, it's been about the food.

The meal is a strange affair – Kathryn does most of the talking, while the two men listen. She explains how they have two days to find a way to deactivate the Quarran shield grid without getting themselves arrested. Ayala leaves immediately he's eaten, saying he needs to shower and change clothes. He promises he'll come back up in an hour so they can discuss further Kathryn's request for their help.

While they wait for Ayala to return, Chakotay disappears to shower and change too, mentioning in passing that while he was in their custody earlier, the police fetched a doctor and subjected him to a psych evaluation. He admits he's feeling the strain as he hasn't been home since leaving for work over 24 hours ago now. He says he needs to get his head together and convince himself he's not crazy, and a shower might help. That sets Kathryn off wondering what the nature of this supposed psychiatrist's involvement with his detention could possibly have been. While he's gone, she uses the respite from their intense conversations to focus on making a start on a possible plan for infiltrating the power plant.

When he reappears, in a plain blue close fitting shirt of a ribbed material and a pair of loose dark pants, hair still damp from the shower, she is still seated on the sofa. He offers her tea, and she's thrown slightly off balance once again by how different he looks here, despite the fact any changes in his appearance are really only minimal. She stands and follows him through to the kitchen area and, while he makes the drinks, she lingers a few paces behind him, acutely aware of his tiniest movements. As he reaches the cups down from the cupboard, she finds herself watching the way the muscles in his shoulders move beneath the clinging material of the shirt.

When he turns and hands her a drink, he holds her gaze, and she wonders whether he is beginning to make any sense of the contradiction of seeing the woman he remembers as Kathryn – whatever that means – here, claiming she is someone else entirely. She's well aware that she is asking a lot of him – that it requires a leap of faith.

Curious to see the view over the city, she asks to go out and they make their way onto the narrow balcony. There is a slight breeze and the night air carries a definite chill. He doesn't seem to notice it, fresh from the shower, but Kathryn can't help but react. She takes in the cityscape, rubbing her hands together to warm them, and smiles at him. "The city looks better at night," she remarks.

"And it's peaceful out here," he replies. "The curfew means the streets are always quiet. There's never any trouble." Then he takes in her reaction to the cold and ducks inside to return moments later with a thick woollen jacket, and without asking, he drapes it over her shoulders.

"Thank you." Kathryn smiles and, for a split second, she feels the weight of his arm around her shoulders too, and she instinctively reacts by looking up at him. Immediately she does, his arm slips away. They both square up to the railing, so close together they are almost touching, and lean forward against it, looking out at the night sky.

Kathryn pulls the collar of the jacket closer around her neck and it grazes her chin. It smells of him, although there is a hint of unfamiliar cologne clinging to it too. The familiarity of his scent is so welcome, as she is finding herself very much on edge. His ignorance of their shared history; _Voyager _being so far away; the alien landscape; the differences she keeps noticing in him and in the way he responds to her – all of these things are contributing to her sense of displacement. What she wouldn't give for an emergency beam out right now.

He catches her staring at him, and she recovers herself and points at the ribbed fabric of his shirt, "Unusual material. What is it?"

He smiles. "It's the latest spec in thermolactyl. B'Elanna introduced me to it; she has a dress made out of it. Swears it's the only thing she has that can keep her warm here – it gets pretty cold at night."

"Makes sense." Kathryn smirks a little. "You desert dwellers never could cope with a nice crisp winter evening."

He purses his lips. "Says the woman still shivering despite a double thickness woollen jacket with thermal lining."

She laughs. "I'm fine now, thanks. But if I didn't already know about your ancestry, your intolerance of the cold would be enough to make me wonder if you had some Klingon blood in those veins somewhere too."

He cracks a smile.

"Do you remember the history of your tribe?" she ventures. "The ancient Rubber Tree People? The Sky Spirits?"

"Of course," he replies.

"About a month into our search for you," she begins, turning to look back out at the night sky, "I went to your quarters on _Voyager_, and I borrowed your medicine bundle – your akoonah – and I attempted a vision quest, in the hope that I might be able to contact you in the spirit world."

"And?" He's clearly intrigued by this claim.

She turns her face towards him and watches his eyes, eyes that appear black now in the near darkness. "I didn't seem to be able to do it without you."

"That's funny," he replies, with a small mirthless laugh. "I haven't attempted a vision quest for years; I only ever managed it once or twice anyway, a year or so after my father was killed."

"Not true," she states firmly. "You began meditating years ago, at the start of our journey. It's something of great importance to you now." He shoots her a sideways look, and she asks, "Do you have a medicine bundle here?"

"No."

She quirks an eyebrow.

"I left everything."

Her chin tilts down slightly and she raises both eyebrows now. "Everything?"

"I arrived here with nothing but my identity papers and the clothes I stood up in."

Kathryn can't help but be curious about why he believes he left his fictitious terraforming project so suddenly, but, right now, she has more pressing concerns. Reassuring though it is that he's willing to listen to her and to talk to her now, she knows that she must bite the bullet and find out if he's seriously entertaining any of her claims or if he's simply humouring her. So, she turns to face him full on. "Do you believe what I've told you, Chakotay?"

He holds her gaze. "I want to…" he replies. "Because I want to believe B'Elanna is safe. But, when I look at you, I see… And all these things you've said, well, they're…" he shrugs and his voice trails off.

"I know that from your perspective a lot of it must seem unlikely," she concedes, pulling his jacket more tightly around her body again as another gust of the cool breeze blows over her. "For now, you're just going to have to trust me."

He dips his head and turns away from her to lean forward, forearms on the railing, and looks out over the city in silence.

She decides that maybe some more information would help. "Mike Ayala is one of your oldest friends on board _Voyager_," she offers. "It makes sense that you found each other here."

"He's a good man."

"Yes. And a good husband."

Immediately, Chakotay tilts his head to look her.

"He's married, with two boys."

"Are they on board?"

"No." Kathryn replies, and pauses before adding, "But B'Elanna's husband is." Chakotay's brow furrows and he moistens his lips, but he doesn't speak. So, Kathryn continues, "You saw him; he's the man who abducted her, Tom Paris."

His eyes widen and he stares at her. "That man? He's her _husband,_ the father of her child, and she didn't recognise him?"

"That's right. She didn't."

He looks down at his hands for a moment. "What about me?" His eyes find hers again. "Am I married? Is there anyone on this ship you need to tell me about?"

She holds his gaze for a beat longer than she means to before answering. "You're not married." She watches him blink several times as he takes this in.

Although her eyes are still on his face, she becomes aware of the distant hum of some sort of machinery coming up from the streets below, and the silence between them extends until he asks cautiously, "And you – what's the nature of my relationship with you?"

She studies the planes and angles of his face, accentuated by the shadows in the semi-darkness, and she's about to say 'We're friends' when she realises that this wouldn't even begin to adequately describe the deceptively intimate, yet sometimes deeply unsettling relationship that has evolved between her and this man for the past six years of her life. Evolving within – at the same time as often blurring – the lines of its unspoken demarcation.

"We're-" she begins, but stops when they hear the door buzzer sound. _Saved by the bell, _she thinks. "That must be Mike," she evades.

Chakotay gives her a half smile, then motions for her to precede him back inside and he calls out, "It's still open, Mike."

They stop in front of the sofa and Chakotay takes the jacket from Kathryn's shoulders and slips it over the back of a chair just as they hear the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Multiple footsteps.

Ayala walks in, followed immediately by three male Quarran police officers, one of whom starts towards Kathryn. Mike Ayala avoids eye contact with her completely.

Chakotay immediately moves in front of her. "What's going on, Mike?"

Ayala holds his gaze. "I don't know who this woman is, Chakotay, but she isn't our boss, any more than she's your Kathryn."

"You brought _the police_?" Chakotay growls, clearly incredulous, as well as furious.

"The police know about her already," his friend explains urgently. "When I was asking about B'Elanna, a woman told me she overheard Tom Paris offer B'Elanna a job on this ship of theirs this morning. They were here a few days ago too, trying to recruit a new crew. They're desperate."

"Now hold on a minute, Mike, I'm not ready to dismiss everything she's been telling me-"

"She's _manipulating_ you, man," Ayala puts his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Think about it. Neither of us remembers _anything_ about this ship she claims we came from, and she's obviously skilled with that dermal regenerator. The police already know about her and her friend."

The police officer who entered first addresses Chakotay. "It's true, sir. This woman and the man who abducted your friend were asked to leave orbit a few days ago. They were trying to illegally poach Quarran workers."

Ayala watches Chakotay then adds, "Maybe that's what she was up to with us. Maybe she found a photo of Kathryn or something while you were in the bathroom – who knows what she's capable of with that regenerator. Maybe she's playing on those memories to confuse you – make you doubt your own mind – to get you to help her find more workers."

Chakotay blocks the police officer's advance on Kathryn with his body and she feels his strong arm reach back to pull her in close behind him. He faces up to his friend. "I don't have any photos. That's crazy, Mike."

"Is it any more crazy that what she's claiming? If you get involved with her, you're gonna get yourself arrested again. They'll start believing you really _did_ have something to do with B'Elanna's disappearance. You can't risk everything you've built here on the word of this woman."

"But I told you, I spoke to B'Elanna-"

"How do you know that really was B'Elanna that you spoke to? My guess is that this woman here and her people know a few more tricks when it comes to altering someone's voice. She's _playing_ you, Chakotay. She's some kind of con artist."

Chakotay turns and looks at Kathryn, confusion and doubt in his eyes.

Kathryn's mind is spinning. Clearly nothing she said earlier got through to Mike Ayala. Silently, she curses her own poor judgement. She should have been suspicious when he barely asked a single question about anything she told him.

Kathryn realises she needs to do something fast or she's going to be arrested, and Chakotay is still her best hope. She tugs him round to face her, and grasps his biceps. "Chakotay, you have to believe me. Everything I've told you is true. Remember what B'Elanna said."

But, before he can reply, the Quarran policemen are on top of them and prize them apart. In the frenzy that follows, Chakotay reaches for her, but two of the men grab his arms and restrain him, and the other man clamps his hand onto Kathryn's arm.

"Chakotay, please! You can't trust them," she urges, fighting back the panic.

"Let her go!" Chakotay shouts. "Mike – stop this, I need to talk to her-"

Kathryn pulls away, but the police officer who has hold of her draws his weapon and presses it to her neck, increasing his already firm grip on her arm. Chakotay struggles and frees himself from the two men, but then the smaller man also draws a weapon and slams it up against the base of Chakotay's skull.

"Calm down!" the police officer orders him, as his colleague assists him in pulling Chakotay's arms behind his back.

"Hey!" Ayala protests, raising both hands. "Put that away. He isn't the threat here. He's done nothing wrong." But the officers maintain their hold on Chakotay and the weapon stays where it is.

Then the Quarran holding Kathryn addresses the two humans, "We'll let you know if we find out where B'Elanna Torres is when we interrogate this woman."

"Don't trust them – these people are capable of terrible things!" Kathryn tells Chakotay, as the police officer secures her hands behind her back with some sort of restraining device.

"Don't do this! Get your hands off her!" Chakotay shouts, his arms still pinned behind him and a weapon at his neck.

"Leave it, Chakotay. You need to let her go," Ayala tells him.

Kathryn catches Chakotay's eye as she is bundled past him. He's seething. "Contact _Voyager_," she shouts at him desperately. "It's up to you now. You have to try!"

"Kathryn, I-" he begins, but she is forced down the corridor and out of the apartment before he can finish.

[TBC]


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Voyager

The days that follow Tom Paris's return to the ship are ridiculously busy and more than a little surreal. Tom finds himself on duty more or less twenty-four hours a day.

First, they are transported to sickbay and he has the unpleasant and damn near impossible task of helping the Doctor restrain and sedate B'Elanna. Tom comes away with a black eye from a stray elbow and an earful of Klingon curses and insults, a couple of which he'd not actually heard before. If their chief medical officer wasn't impervious to physical damage, Tom's pretty sure they'd have had to resort to phasering his wife.

While the Doctor administers the first of B'Elanna's treatments, Tom squints in front of the mirror to treat his own eye, and then uses the dermal regenerator to reverse the Doctor's handiwork on his face. Looking in the mirror this time, it's good to see his own reflection staring back at him. He rubs a hand over his strangely empty, flat face, finally free from all the protrusions around his chin, forehead and ears that the Doctor had insisted on crafting.

Then he stands over B'Elanna as she lies still, finally, on the biobed. He smoothes her hair and can't help himself reaching out and laying his hand on her pregnant bump. She is almost seven months pregnant now. He wonders what on earth this would have been like if they hadn't found the crew until after the baby was born. It's one train of thought he refuses to take any further.

A few hours later, when B'Elanna regains consciousness and the Doctor calls Tom down to sickbay, B'Elanna's big brown eyes flash with a flicker of something intense – but Tom's not sure if it's recognition. She doesn't recognise her surroundings, and she still isn't really sure who Tom is – or anyone else for that matter – but she doesn't seem frightened anymore. She seems open to suggestion and uncharacteristically subdued. He takes her on a tour of the ship and follows the Doctor's advice to reacquaint her very gradually and very gently with her life on board.

After several more treatments, she is almost herself again. And she's back at work and they are both insanely busy.

In the small amount of time they manage to spend together, she begins to tell him a little about her experiences on Quarra. Everything she says seems to involve Chakotay, and Tom tries his best not to outwardly react every time she mentions the damned man again. He succeeds in stopping any smart-ass comments too, until he doesn't. Then, after his one throwaway, "Well, it's good to know _Chakotay_ was there; _again_," B'Elanna rolls her eyes at him and she doesn't mention Chakotay once in the whole of the rest of her account.

Later that evening, after B'Elanna suggests they try a different frequency on a covariant subspace band, Harry finally manages to get through to the Captain. It turns out she's with Chakotay and Ayala. Harry puts the call through to B'Elanna in their quarters.

Tom gives her a hand as she hauls herself up off the sofa where they'd been sitting together, looking at holo-images of their last year on _Voyager_. She turns to face the viewport, looking out at the blackness as she speaks to Chakotay.

Tom knows exactly what she's doing – she tells Chakotay just enough to reassure him she's all right and steers him away from details, since they don't know how much Janeway has told him. B'Elanna keeps her tone friendly, not intimate. But the obvious emotion in Chakotay's voice – the man always did wear his heart on his sleeve – makes it an uncomfortable conversation for Tom to hear, and he wishes he were elsewhere. There's no mistaking how desperate Chakotay is to hear that B'Elanna is safe. It's also clear that he's far from convinced by Janeway's claims.

The call ends, and B'Elanna turns back to face Tom. He suspects they both know that the time to clear the air is long overdue. But he finds he's still unwilling to bring any of it up. Then it seems he won't have to.

"Stop looking at me like that," she challenges; attack always being the preferable form of defence for B'Elanna when she's feeling awkward about something.

"Like what?" he risks.

"That."

Tom shrugs, and leans back against the edge of the table.

Her hands go to her hips and she purses her lips. "Nothing happened, you know."

"Well, good." He isn't going to pretend he doesn't know what she's referring to. Tom is not naïve. He is well aware that being in love with someone who has completely disappeared out of your life doesn't necessarily preclude the possibility of intimacy with another. And Tom's already wondered whether these weeks on Quarra haven't brought to the surface certain undercurrents in B'Elanna's relationship with her former boss – undercurrents that Tom had presumed the events of the past few years had long since dissipated. What he wants her to say is that she wasn't entertaining the idea of intimacy. What he fears is that she might say something different.

"Chakotay was just looking out for me down there."

Tom forces himself to meet her gaze. He isn't sure about the 'just' in that sentence, but he isn't about to start a debate and point out that such a casual dismissal doesn't exactly fit with everything he saw and overheard in that café. These days, he is old enough and wise enough to know that this is his problem. He's the one who will need to find a way to deal quickly with his jealousy – even if all he can do with it right now is to box it away – or he risks allowing it to undermine the relationship he cares most about in the galaxy.

Then she massages her lower back with one hand, and with the other, she wags a finger at him. "And anyway, even if something _had_ happened – which it didn't – it wouldn't be like I was cheating on you. I had no memory of you at all!"

He half-smiles. "Guess I'm not as memorable as I'd like to think."

She takes a step towards him. "I didn't even remember my own childhood on Kessik IV, Tom. Or my parents, or Qo'noS." She points out. "So unless you think you're more memorable than a whole planet…"

"I'd like to think I could give some planets I've visited a run for their money in the memorability stakes."

She snorts in response and he adds, "Then again, maybe not a whole planet full of Klingons."

Some of the tension is gone and he reaches for her and pulls her to him. Then they both laugh when they realise they'll have to accommodate a much larger bump now if he wants to hug her. She turns to bring her back flush against his chest and he sits back on the edge of the table, pulling her to him and resting one arm across her collarbone while his hand holds her shoulder.

"I can't tell you how good it is to have you back," he says, pressing his cheek to hers. "Both of you," he adds, as their hands join over the bump.

"Actually, you can," she corrects. "You're still supposed to be reacquainting me with my life, until we're both due on the bridge. So, go ahead. I'm listening."

Tom nips her ear.

"Come on then," she pushes, "Just how good is it?"

"It's sublime," he purrs into her ear. "And I'm already thinking of how we can make it even better."

She leans back further into him, and then she halts the progress of the hand that had begun to caress her upper arm, to ask in a more serious tone, "Do you want to know what I believed had happened to me?"

"Only if you want to tell me," Tom replies, half hoping that she does, and half hoping that she doesn't, in case it turns out that ignorance is bliss.

"I believed the father of my child – and it wasn't you – had deserted me the moment I discovered I was pregnant."

Tom sighs and pulls her closer. "That must have been horrible for you believing that."

"Guess I should probably be more surprised," she says, looking down at their joined hands resting over her bump.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well," she looks up and twists her head towards him, "I suppose part of me still wonders whether all this –" she gestures at their quarters, "being with you, the baby, having a future together – is too good to be true. I sometimes feel like I might wake up one morning and find I'm still alone, and it was all some dream."

Tom holds her gaze for a beat. "You and me both, B'Elanna," he whispers. He bends his head down, guides hers backwards, and he kisses her tenderly. Then he pulls back and smiles against her cheek. "But I've got the girl of my dreams back in my arms now, so I'm not complaining."

XxX

A little while later when Tom's on the bridge, the Captain contacts the ship.

The call is very short and she says very little, other than that she's sending encrypted instructions for when and where to enter orbit. Something about it isn't right, but Tom can't put his finger on what exactly.

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p><span>Quarra<span>

Annika presses the doorbell and she and Yerid wait for the deputy shift supervisor to answer. Annika is just able to distinguish the sound of male voices within, so she is in no doubt that he is home. She looks at Yerid. He appears to be composed and he is holding a picture of employee 8709 in one hand.

The door opens, and the more aesthetically pleasing features of the deputy shift supervisor meet her gaze. The expression on his face denotes that their arrival outside his apartment is unexpected and possibly unwelcome.

"Deputy Supervisor Chakotay. Mr Yerid and I wish to speak with you," she states.

"Here?" he asks.

The deputy shift supervisor stares coolly at Annika's companion and then replies, "You already asked me enough questions yesterday, Mr Yerid. You released me, remember?"

"What do you know about this woman?" Yerid enquires, ignoring the deputy shift supervisor's comments and placing the picture of employee 8709 directly in his line of sight.

Annika notes a pause of three seconds before the deputy shift supervisor looks up and speaks. "She came here with me last night. And then she was arrested; but I'm guessing you already know that."

"We wish to speak to you about her claims," Annika states. "May we come in?"

"I assure you, Mr Chakotay, you are no longer under investigation," Yerid emphasises.

The deputy shift supervisor exhales and eventually stands aside, allowing Annika and Yerid to pass into his apartment.

Annika proceeds into the living area. The layout of the apartment is a mirror image of her own. She assesses that it has been arranged in an acceptably orderly fashion. She notices the addition of decorative vegetation and of cardiovascular exercise equipment and resistance training weights. It is commendable that the deputy shift supervisor wishes to maintain his physical fitness levels.

She is unsurprised to find employee 8591 seated at the table. His presence here is fortuitous: he is also one of the 137 workers she has been investigating. He nods to her in acknowledgment. Annika has noticed that, in the work place, he is efficient in his role, wasting no time on inconsequential conversation with colleagues. He speaks with the deputy shift supervisor during designated break periods, but, at other times, he can be relied upon to remain on task. It is unfortunate that the majority of other employees do not adopt such a productive attitude.

In recent weeks, Annika has been observing the social interactions between employees at the power plant. Shortly after arriving on Quarra, she decided she would like to participate in the social intercourse engaged in by others. She has already identified the deputy shift supervisor, employee 8591 and employee 8588, as making up the social group she is most interested in joining.

When she began her research into this mystery, Annika noted with satisfaction that both the deputy shift supervisor and employee 8591's names were among the 137 other employees who arrived the same day that she did. Whatever the outcome of this investigation, it seems likely she will continue to be associated with both of these men.

The three of them are now standing in the living room, in the space directly in front of the sofa.

"What is it you want?" the deputy shift supervisor asks her, his face suggesting he is suspicious of their motivation.

"We are investigating some surprising discoveries I have made about my arrival here and the arrival of 137 other people," Annika explains. "We believe there may be a connection between this and the claims employee 8709 made to Mr Yerid last night."

The deputy shift supervisor turns and exchanges a look with employee 8591 before he responds. "What 'surprising discoveries' would those be exactly?"

"When I examined the personnel files that had been opened by employee 8583, Mr Tuvok, before he was taken to Division Six of the hospital, I found that 137 other workers, mostly from the same race, began work on Quarra on the same day that I did. That number includes Mr Tuvok, B'Elanna Torres and the two of you. The medical records for all 138 of us show that we were processed through Division Six – neuropathology. But I have no memory of being ill or of being there."

The deputy shift supervisor's expression suggests shock or displeasure. Annika continues, "Mr Yerid came asking questions at the plant this afternoon about the man he believes abducted employee 8588."

Then Yerid addresses the two men, "After my officers located and arrested his accomplice here last night, we found some sort of communication device under her skin. But before I could question her properly, security personnel arrived at the station with orders – approved by the Director of Investigations himself – to surrender her to Division Six at the hospital."

The news of employee 8709's removal to the hospital appears to further unsettle the deputy shift supervisor. His face flushes as if he is experiencing an emotional response that he is unsuccessfully attempting to suppress.

"I went down to the station as soon as curfew lifted at first light this morning and they refused to let me see her," he reports.

"That is because she was no longer there," confirms Yerid. "Before they took her, she told me that her real name was Kathryn Janeway and that she was captain of a starship. She claimed that members of her crew had been brought here and put to work, after someone had altered their memories. All I know now is that she's signed into Division Six of the hospital under the care of Dr. Kadan."

"Dr. Kadan?" the deputy shift supervisor queries, apparently unsettled by the mention of this name as well. "The same man who did the psych evaluation on me yesterday afternoon at the police station?"

"Yes. Dr Kadan contacted the station almost immediately we'd informed the power plant about our investigating into the abduction yesterday. He claimed he was conducting research into the psychological profiling of the perpetrators of violent crime."

Annika considers the connection and addresses the deputy shift supervisor. "If this Captain Kathryn Janeway's claims are indeed true, and our memories have been altered, then perhaps whoever is responsible thought that you had helped her. Perhaps this 'research' is fictitious, and they insisted on assessing you in order to ascertain whether your memory suppressant was malfunctioning?"

A look passes between the deputy shift supervisor and employee 8591 that Annika is unable to interpret. Neither of them has offered any assistance yet and she is growing impatient to continue her investigation. She fixes Yerid with a look and continues, "I believe we should confront the hospital director and the director of the power plant."

"I'll need more evidence before I start making accusations," he replies.

"Kathryn said she had proof of my real identity aboard a ship called _Voyager_," the deputy shift supervisor states.

Annika turns to face him now. "How can we locate it?"

"When her crew contacted her, they were using a triaxialating frequency on a covariant subspace band," he replies.

This is encouraging. "There's a subspace transponder at the power plant," Annika informs him, pleased that he is volunteering information.

Another unintelligible look passes between the deputy shift supervisor and employee 8591, and then the former says, "We'll go back to the plant and use the subspace transponder to try to contact this ship."

Annika is gratified that the two men are willing to participate in her attempt to solve this mystery. Turning to Yerid, she attempts to enlist his continuing support as well. "If I were to return to the hospital in your custody, it would give us an opportunity to help this Captain Janeway and Tuvok."

Yerid nods consent, although his expression suggests that he is experiencing a substantial level of trepidation in relation to her proposal.

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p><span>Voyager<span>

Tom and B'Elanna are manning bridge stations when they enter orbit and Chakotay contacts them.

Tom answers the hail this time. Within seconds, it's clear that _Voyager_'s first officer is still pretty confused, but he does seem to be beginning to entertain the idea that the ship is real. Tom listens to him explain that the efficiency monitor has found evidence that supports what Kathryn told him. Reading between the lines, Tom feels pretty sure it's Seven's persistence that's got Chakotay and Ayala as far as agreeing to try the triaxialating bandwidth. He makes a mental note to cut her some slack next time she's like a Borg dog with a bone about something.

But, it's when he puts B'Elanna on that the real progress is made. Tom listens mutely as she convinces Chakotay it's safe to trust them, her tone ultra professional this time.

Minutes later, they enter orbit and all hell breaks loose. They are immediately set upon by three Quarran ships. Just in time, Chakotay and Ayala succeed in disabling the shield grid and Harry and B'Elanna manage to beam the whole crew to safety.

The hours that follow are chaotic – even by Delta Quadrant standards. Immediately the reality of what has happened is exposed to the Quarran authorities and the ship is no longer under fire, Tom is called to help the Doctor in sickbay to help deal with the influx of people in need of treatment.

He walks in to find himself face to face with the command team. Except they couldn't look less like a team right now, both out of uniform and one of them out of character. Chakotay is leaning against the first biobed, eyeing his surroundings suspiciously and looking everywhere except at Janeway. She is standing a full metre away from him and is just finishing her sentence as Tom enters. Her face is almost grey and she looks exhausted.

Immediately, she turns to greet him. "Tom. Good to see you," she says, upbeat as ever, and she pats his shoulder. Then she heads for the door. "Tell the Doctor to treat Chakotay next. I'll be on the bridge."

[TBC]


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

It's a weird few days for Tom and Harry – pretty much everyone else on the ship is wandering about in varying states of semi-confusion as they gradually reacquaint themselves with the lives they've been leading on _Voyager_ for the past six years. You never know what response you'll get when you look someone in the eye. On the positive side, they'd managed to get the Captain out of there before the Quarrans had time to give her the full brain wash treatment. The Doctor saw to her first, and was able to reverse what had been done to her there and then on her first and only visit to sickbay, in a tiny fraction of the time he needed to treat B'Elanna.

The end of that first day finds Janeway still busy with the Quarran authorities. Tom and Harry have been taking turns assisting her in meetings as she tries to ensure what happened to them can't happen to any other ship. And, whenever it isn't Tom's turn to play second fiddle to Janeway in this diplomatic coda, he finds himself kept unbelievably busy assisting the Doc in sickbay.

XxX

Sickbay

Tom watches as Chakotay enters, takes in the scene and realises he will have to join the queue. Chakotay must be reporting here for his second treatment already, but the Doc is still busy administering the first treatment to the last few members of the crew. It's a damn good job the Doc doesn't need to take a break or sleep. He hasn't deactivated himself for days – weeks actually. As he continues his work, Tom continues to covertly observe Chakotay. He is leaning against the first biobed, the air of natural authority that would usually surround him noticeably absent – the man looks completely lost. Right now, in a very real sense, he is between jobs – between identities.

With B'Elanna busy with repairs and Janeway busy with the Quarran authorities, Tom is well aware that no one is babysitting the first officer while the Doctor's treatment takes effect. B'Elanna was lucky enough to have help from Tom and the Doctor as she acclimatised. But now, with the sheer numbers that have to come through sickbay, and with everything that needs to be done before they can get underway again, Chakotay and the rest of the crew have simply been discharged to quarters. They've been told to read their personal logs, and to report here every three hours for another treatment.

Next time Tom looks over, he realises Chakotay is eyeing him cautiously. He's next in line now, so Tom approaches and says hello, and starts to scan him with the medical tricorder to obtain the initial data the Doctor requires. Tom avoids eye contact. The Doctor still has to treat Ensign Lang and Crewman Morrow, so Chakotay will have to wait a few more minutes.

Tom feels Chakotay's eyes on his face. "You're Tom Paris," the first officer states after a few seconds have elapsed in silence.

"Guilty as charged," Tom replies, continuing the scan.

A few seconds later Chakotay asks, "How's B'Elanna?"

"She's fine," Tom replies immediately, eyes on the tricorder readout. He meets Chakotay's guarded gaze. "She's busy putting the ship back together. We took quite a beating in the process of getting you all back."

"Yes, I know. I've been reading the mission logs."

"So, do you know who you are yet?"

"That's a hard question to answer." Chakotay cocks his head to one side, maintaining eye contact as his long bronze fingers come up, and he traps his left ear lobe between his forefinger and thumb, rubbing it thoughtfully. "I remember how we ended up in the Delta Quadrant now, and bits of the first year out here." He frowns a little. "Enough to know you were telling the truth about our memories having been altered."

Flipping the tricorder shut, Tom looks up again. "That's normal at this stage of the treatment. You'll get more back after this one." He nods to indicate the Doctor, who is working on Crewman Morrow now. "He won't be long," he adds, as a precursor to turning away and going back to work in the Doctor's office. Tom isn't really disposed to chat.

But, only a couple of minutes later, as he's sitting at the screen in the Doctor's small office, he looks up to find Chakotay in the doorway. The older man holds his gaze, and then says tentatively, "I'm trying to sort out what's real and what isn't right now, and I could do with a few pointers."

Tom stops work and rests his hands on his thighs. "OK. What do you want to know?"

Chakotay leans against the doorjamb. "Kathryn told me that you and B'Elanna are married."

"That's right." Tom wonders how much about what he saw on down on Quarra can be read in his expression right now. His eyes flicker away from Chakotay's.

"I guess they suppressed her memories of you, so she wouldn't go looking for you," he suggests.

"Guess so." Tom feels the heat rising in his neck and envies Chakotay's colouring – pretty sure it camouflages the first flush of feelings like this better than the complexion he inherited from his northern European ancestors.

The older man casts his eyes down to the floor. "Look, I don't know what B'Elanna's told you about our time down there, but…" Chakotay begins, and Tom already irrationally resents the possessive in that sentence. He doesn't want to have this 'talk', but it seems Chakotay has run out of steam anyway.

"It makes sense that you found each other down there," Tom states, saving the older man's vegetarian bacon. "You're one of her oldest friends."

"That's something I do remember. I can already remember most of my life before _Voyager_, I think. I remember meeting B'Elanna years ago."

In no mood to reminisce, Tom cuts to what he thinks Chakotay is trying to get to. "I'm grateful someone was looking out for her, while I couldn't."

"She was doing just fine down there. She's a natural born survivor. She was making the best of the situation she believed she was in."

Tom doesn't need a lecture on his wife's survival skills, especially not from this particular source right now, but he inhales deeply and rises above his irritation to reply. "I know. She more than coped on her own for years before I met her. But actually, given the life we lead out here, it's good to know for sure that she and the baby would be OK if anything ever happened to me."

"So, does this mean I haven't blown my chances of being godfather?" Chakotay asks.

"One step at a time, eh?" Tom throws back casually, with a half smile. _In your dreams, man._

It is novel, however, to find himself on the receiving end of what is essentially an apology from Chakotay. That said, the man is still so obviously a long way from being himself that his ignorance of most of the last six years means he is unaware of the reversal of the usual dynamic here. Tom discovers this diminishes considerably any satisfaction he might have felt.

Then Chakotay looks out into the main area of sickbay for a moment, moistens his lips and Tom wonders what's coming next. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

"Reading my logs is helping me remember events as we've made our way across this quadrant, but I'm still pretty much in the dark about the details of my own life." His eyes drop to the floor for a beat, then he looks back up to connect with Tom's gaze and he goes on, "Back on the planet, I asked Kathryn about the nature of my personal relationship with her, but she didn't really get a chance to answer."

Tom supresses a smile. _Makes sense_.

"The thing is…" Chakotay breaks off, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Then he goes on, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind filling me in on anything I need to know, before I put my foot it in – again.'

Tom watches him as his hand strays up to his ear once more and Tom realises the older man is completely at sea here. Although he clearly senses that his relationship with the Captain is important, he probably has no idea whether Janeway is his wife, his clandestine lover, his friend or just his commanding officer.

This is the second unusual dynamic in the last five minutes. First a semi apology, now this? Whatever next? Perhaps he should feel sorry for Chakotay, as Tom can't help but wonder whether the answer to his question will be something of a disappointment, but actually, right now, well…

Holding his gaze Tom replies, "Obviously I'm not party to any intimate details – you're both very private people – but you and Captain," he pauses for a split second, but he takes in immediately that the older man doesn't miss this slight hesitation, "As far as I know, you're good friends; you have been since early on in our journey." Chakotay nods. "You're kind of a Tarzan to her Jane," Tom goes on. The first officer looks at him blankly. Tom smiles and finds he just can't resist one more. "You know, you're the Owl to her Pussycat."

The older man purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. Finally, Tom takes pity on him and adds, "You're her right hand man, on and off duty."

Chakotay inclines his head a little again. "I see. Thanks," he replies, not looking particularly thankful. Then he shifts a little and slowly slides his palms together in front of him.

As Tom continues to watch, he notices a deepening of the tan colour of the first officer's skin, rising gradually up to reach his face, and belying the older man's neutral expression. Then the sight of the Doc approaching from the other side of the door distracts them both and Chakotay turns to make his way out of the office.

Tom can't help but smile a little to himself. Guess he'd been wrong about Chakotay's heritage affording him significantly more camouflage. He reflects too for a moment that it's a shame that it had to take someone wiping his memory to get _Voyager_'s first officer to admit he has a personal life at all. For a while now, until recent events, Tom realises he'd begun to think of Chakotay as an almost-friend. Their connection to B'Elanna made it inevitable they'd have to find a way to rub along, and they had. Even so, he's never been under any illusions that the older man would consider him a confidante or come to him for advice on anything other than how the helm is responding. On reflection he decides friendship is a word that still didn't quite fit. More like a cessation of hostilities, an uneasy truce. They certainly still knew how to push each other's buttons before all this went down, and no doubt they will again, once Chakotay has his own mind back. Tom still only has one _real_ male friend on this ship.

He is grateful for the turn of fate that brought him Harry, and can't help wondering whether ending up with someone as monosyllabic and undemanding as Ayala as your closest friend has its downsides. It occurs to him that it's a shame that Bendera is only with them in spirit on this journey now. Tom is thrown back in time to a flashback from his brief time in Chakotay's Maquis cell and he sees Kurt's distinctive grin as he slaps Chakotay on the back in some dingy bar they found themselves in.

Refusing to allow himself to get bogged down and maudlin by thinking about how many people they've lost, Tom takes a deep breath and turns his attention back to his work here on the 138 people they _thought_ they'd lost but have just got back, every single one of them alive and well. He heads back out to assist the Doctor.

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>Another meeting over and Kathryn takes advantage of this lull in her schedule to check in with the Doctor. The crew are all responding well to his treatment and, when she asks after Chakotay, the Doctor informs her that her first officer has had his second treatment and has been discharged to quarters again. The computer confirms that's where he is, so she sets off to pay him a brief visit. Part of her feels guilty she hasn't been down to check up on him before now, and another part thinks she should wait until he is fully recovered before going near him at all.<p>

As the 'lift doors open on deck three, she finds herself face to face with Mike Ayala, who is standing waiting. Although he is still out of uniform, his arms are clasped behind him in his usual 'at ease' posture. She'd seen him waiting in line in the chaos that was sickbay as she'd walked out, but she hadn't had the time to speak to anyone then. Judging by the look of blind panic he's sporting now, it probably wasn't a bad thing.

"Lieutenant," she nods.

"Captain," he replies, immediately tensing up and almost standing to attention, looking deeply uncomfortable.

Kathryn can't miss the fact that he can hardly bear to look at her. "How are you?" she asks.

"Fine, thank you. Captain," he begins, clearly desperate to say something, but it seems he isn't sure what. Then he tries again, "I'm sorry, about… about the way I-"

"You have nothing to apologise for, Lieutenant," she cuts him off immediately. "And we have you and Chakotay to thank for shutting down that shield grid."

"Thank you, Captain." He dips his head.

As she moves past him, Kathryn presses a hand to his bicep. "I promise you'll feel better once the Doctor has finished treating you."

He nods in silence and enters the 'lift. As Kathryn continues on her way towards Chakotay's quarters, her mind goes back to the last time she saw Ayala on Quarra and she can't help but wonder what Chakotay could have said to him about the Kathryn from his false memories. Whatever it was, it was enough to make the younger man feel he needed to protect Chakotay from her in some way… Or perhaps she is just being paranoid here.

She shakes herself mentally and is just about to press Chakotay's chime when she hesitates and draws her hand back. Ever since she heard him talk to B'Elanna in that bar about his recent past – even if it was a fictitious version – whenever her thoughts turn to him she has felt a niggling unease that she just can't seem to shift.

She was intending to call in on him, because she wants to be sure her first officer and friend is all right, but another part of her wonders how much of the slightly different Chakotay she met on Quarra is still there after two sessions with the Doctor: how much of that ambitious, highly motivated man, determined to 'move on' – whatever that meant – and build a better, fuller life. She looks down, her hand leaves the chime and strays to her forehead, and she sighs.

If she rings his chime now, there's no telling who will answer the door. If she waits until he's himself again and his defences go back up, there's no way he is going to admit he's lonely, depressed, unfulfilled on _Voyager_ – any more than she would if he were to ask her. But, then again…

_What am I doing? _she asks herself. _ It's best to let sleeping dogs lie; or sleeping bears for that matter._

With a slight shake of her head, she turns to walk purposefully towards her own door instead.

[TBC]


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This chapter strays from 'Workforce' into the very beginning of 'Human Error'. Thanks again to northernexposure for beta reading when she's really too busy and to Photogirl1890 for her post-messing typo check and her continuing tolerance for so much JCness. And thanks to everyone who's left a review.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Eleven<span>

24 hours later - Ready room

She stands and makes her way to the replicator. "So, have we covered everything?"

"Almost," Chakotay replies.

"Coffee, black," she turns from the replicator to catch his eye. "Tea?"

"No, thanks. As soon as we're done here and we break orbit, I'm heading to the holodeck. It's been too long since I visited my boxing simulation."

"Good idea – exercise, I mean. If I don't make some time to play Velocity soon, I won't be a 'sufficiently challenging opponent' for Seven anymore." Kathryn sits down at her desk again and they resume their usual working positions. "So, now I've brought you up to speed on my dealings with the Quarran authorities, how's the first day back gone?"

"Pretty good, all things considered," he replies. "A small number of people reported to sickbay first thing, saying they weren't up to starting today, but nowhere near enough to compromise ship's systems."

"That's good to hear." Janeway takes a sip of coffee, her eyes still on his. "I'll admit I've been a little worried that some people might be struggling with the suddenness of it all."

"Me too. I'll keep my eye on the few that called in sick. But, once their memories were restored, it seems most people were glad to be back where they belong. Jenny Delaney's guest was the last to beam down."

"She began a relationship, I understand." Kathryn replies. "It must be hard for her."

"I'm sure it is." His tone is even, his expression a picture of neutrality.

Janeway goes on, "Well, I guess it couldn't have been all that serious, given you were only down there for a few weeks." She scrolls down the PADD in front of her.

"I'm not so sure," Chakotay replies. "She said they were thinking of getting engaged."

"Oh?" She looks up to meet his measured gaze again as she takes another sip of her coffee. "I had no idea it'd gone that far, that fast."

"Well, I guess sometimes there's no point in waiting," he offers quietly.

"No. I suppose there isn't."

"So," he takes the lead, "we're ready to break orbit as soon as we can persuade engineering they've had more than enough time to test the repairs."

So, it's 'engineering' now, is it? Clearly there are some other relationships that are feeling the strain since they got back to the ship. "That's good to hear," she replies.

Here they are, back in their usual positions, but something has changed subtly. He still looks different somehow, and she can't shake the feeling that the way he looks at her is different too, although how exactly she couldn't say. He's suddenly less familiar. Kathryn eyes him for a moment, then asks, "And, how about you, Chakotay? How are you adapting to being back on the ship?"

He looks up. "I'm fine." She dips her chin a little and looks at him long and hard until one corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile. "Really, Kathryn," he insists. "I'm just glad to be back. We all are."

Putting the PADD down, Janeway stands and walks out from behind the desk as the need to move comes over her. Chakotay turns in his seat to follow her with his gaze. She paces the space in front of the steps up to the higher level for a moment. "You may be glad to be back," she starts, one hand on her hip, then she wags a finger at him as she goes on, "but I can tell you this, seeing you all down there made me realise a few things."

"Oh? And just what would those things be?" he enquires, with the air of a man mildly intrigued.

She continues her pacing. "Well, for starters, we need to find ways to develop and nurture any ambitions that the crew may be harbouring – personal and professional."

Her companion sits up a little in his seat and looks stunned for a split second. Then he immediately masks the surprise and replies cautiously, "I couldn't agree more. I'll have some fresh suggestions on your desk by 07.00 tomorrow. I'll admit the last set of proposals I submitted probably did need some work."

"And we need to _promote_ people, Chakotay," Kathryn continues at speed, without responding to his last comment – glossing over the guilt she feels about not being able to remember even looking at his last set of proposals. It feels good to allow herself to get enthusiastic here. "We need to promote Harry. We've left him in charge of the ship more times than I care to remember and he's still an ensign! I can't believe we haven't done it already."

She looks back to find Chakotay watching her. He smiles and raises his hands, "You'll get no argument here."

His relaxed posture and his calm response make Kathryn suddenly aware of her own animation and she feels a little self-conscious. She gestures to him to join her in the raised seating area. Once they're seated she goes on, "I don't want anyone to feel that their lives – personal or professional – have to be put on hold indefinitely anymore."

His expression suggests that he is beginning to believe that Kathryn is in earnest. "I'm sure we can come up with ways to accommodate some of the crew's ambitions – as long as they aren't too… unusual, shall we say." He smiles. "There isn't much you can't do with a holodeck."

Even though sitting down has forced her to slow down a little, Kathryn is still on a roll. "And we need more social events, rather than just the odd party after a significant success – not that I don't welcome Neelix's efforts. But people need more regular, structured opportunities to socialise off duty, when circumstances allow for it."

"Agreed. I'll start collecting suggestions and consider who to assign with the task of organising more regular events."

"Good. And tomorrow we'll meet with Tuvok to discuss the crew's professional development." She eyes him in silence for a moment before asking, "Are you_ really_ glad to be back?"

With a slight shake of his head, he smiles at her again. "_Of course_," he emphasises.

"You seemed very happy down there. I can't help wondering if you found life planetside to be more fulfilling." The seriousness of the tone she's adopted causes him to look at her pointedly. She rests her hand on his leg to emphasise her next point. "It's understandable if you did, you know."

Then he purses his lips and shoots her a look that suggests he's questioning whether she can really be serious. Kathryn chides herself as it dawns on her that he might have been more forthcoming if she'd initiated this conversation off duty, in a more informal setting.

"I don't regret you coming to get us out of there, if that's what you're asking."

Something in her expression must be betraying the fact that she is far from convinced, because he presses his hand over hers. "_Really_, Kathryn. You don't need to worry about me."

The heat of his skin on hers is reassuring. She takes a deep breath and looks up to find those expressive brown eyes already on her face. "Good," she replies, and she notices them twinkle with a flicker of the mischief that she used to see there more often.

"It was strange meeting you down there, when I didn't know who you really were," he muses.

She is suddenly thrown back to the feeling of being around him in his small Quarran apartment. "Yes, it certainly was."

"Your curiosity got the better of you a few times down there, didn't it?"

She slips her hand out from under his, bringing it to rest in her lap with her other hand, and her features form a questioning expression, feigning ignorance.

"I can remember it all, Kathryn."

"I don't know what you mean." Her best poker face is now firmly in place.

"Well, let's see: if I'm not mistaken, I remember a petite blonde quizzing me about my aspirations at work, about my past, and about the status of my relationships," he teases. "You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"It's called making conversation," she defends, trying to ignore that enticing twinkle.

"Don't worry," he deadpans. "The crew won't hear about the Captain's nosy streak from me."

"Tom and I had to question you all thoroughly to work out what they'd done to your memories."

"Understood, Captain."

He isn't buying, and she knows she's been caught, but there's no way she's going to let him have the satisfaction of an admission, not while he isn't being honest here either.

"So, you're glad to be back, and your life on the ship is fulfilling and you are perfectly content," she recaps.

"My people have a saying 'if you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself'."

She quirks an eyebrow. "A little brutal – wouldn't you say? And rather defeatist, surely? Blaming the victim if his circumstances make him unhappy?"

"There are no victims here, Kathryn. The crew will be fine – I'm fine."

"You know what I meant."

"I do. And you're right – about the saying. And I know what you're asking, but honestly, there's nothing for you to worry about." He shifts position to lean back a little on the sofa, his eyes on the carpet. "I'm not about to step down or ask to be put off the ship, just because I had my feet on solid ground for a couple of months." He looks up and her eyes find his again. She finds herself watching his lips as he speaks this time. "Nobody would deny there are things about life on the ship that aren't ideal, but we all accepted those things years ago. Nothing's changed."

Light-hearted though its delivery may have been, she can't shake the feeling that his denial lacks conviction. Kathryn looks away. "I'm not so sure," she mutters. "I think maybe we've changed, and not all of us for the better."

"I can offer you another saying of my people about the passage of time if you like, but that's all that's going on here, Kathryn," he cajoles. "The crew will be fine. Just give them time. And then it'll be business as usual."

Rather than his comment having the intended reassuring effect, Kathryn just feels a continuing sense of vague disquiet.

Then he places his large hands on his thighs, emphasising his next word. "So, the last thing I wanted to bring to your attention is that Neelix has asked if he can organise a party for tomorrow night, to celebrate our safe return and help everyone adjust to life back on the ship."

"I'd expect no less of him. Permission granted," she nods.

"Will I see you there?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Good," he stands. "So, shall we?" he gestures towards the door. "Everyone is looking forward to hearing you give the order that'll put us back on course."

She follows suit and gets up, cocking her head to one side for a moment and plastering a smile in place as she straightens her uniform jacket. "Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint."

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p><span>Holodeck Research Lab<span>

Seven enters a command into the holo-lab control panel and the Chakotay hologram rotates slowly on the slightly raised diagnostic platform in front of the console.

The civilian clothing the computer has produced is acceptable. She hasn't investigated whether there is a selection of clothing for the holographic representations of the crew in this simulation; so far it hasn't proved relevant in her research. The Doctor has already used this simulation with her several times in order to work on different aspects of her social skills. The baby shower scenario is the most recent file she loaded and attempted. She felt satisfied with her efforts to interact appropriately with the holographic characters. The Doctor would be pleased with her performance. However, there are limitations to his experience of social intercourse and Seven is becoming increasingly aware of them. The crew do not always respond well to him, and he has made significant errors in his social relationships. At this point, she is uncertain as to whether there is much more he can teach her.

The time has come for her to investigate other aspects of her humanity without the Doctor's help. Since there are few objective means of measuring social skills, she has decided it would be prudent to solicit the assistance of the individuals the crew hold in highest esteem for their conduct in social matters. The Captain has already been helpful, and Seven has concluded that Commander Chakotay might also prove an enlightening mentor. He manages personnel issues on board efficiently and he is skilled in social situations. He is also one of the individuals she selected as a possible partner for a romantic liaison when she first began her research on Quarra.

She has already begun to write a personal simulation of quarters for herself. With one more appraising look at the hologram of the Commander, she transfers it into her personal simulation. Then, something occurs to her and she brings it back online again to stand before her. The computer is basing its extrapolation on an out-of-date version of Chakotay's physical parameters. She instructs the computer to update the projection, based on the most recent scan of the Commander's biosigns. As the hologram shimmers to reflect the slight changes, Seven observes with satisfaction. His interest in exercising while they were on Quarra has resulted in an improved muscle to fat ratio and a more aesthetically pleasing appearance. Seven judges it to be important that a prospective romantic partner shares her core values, and she believes maintaining optimum levels of physical fitness to be evidence of sound judgement. If her research produces results that suggest she should approach the Commander and attempt to initiate a courtship ritual, she will need to enquire whether he has continued to maintain his improved exercise regime since returning to the ship. After a second's reflexion, she decides to check the holodeck logs now. She notes that in the three days since their return, he has accessed his boxing simulation on two occasions – this suggests an acceptable level of continuing commitment.

As she transfers the hologram back into her personal simulation and is just about close it, her communicator chirps. "_Chakotay to Seven of Nine."_

Unsettled, she steps back slightly from the control panel and immediately taps her badge. "Go ahead, Commander."

"_Report to Astrometrics, Seven. I need your input here."_

She is already on her way out of the door at speed as she replies, "Yes, Commander," and she almost bumps into Lieutenant Paris as he tries to enter.

Paris steps aside. "Woah!" he exclaims. "What's the big rush?"

"I am needed in Astrometrics," she replies, continuing down the corridor. Seven reminds herself that it is illogical to feel uncomfortable. It is merely a coincidence that the Commander contacted her while she was viewing his holographic representation. It should not affect her present interactions with him.

XxX

Half an hour later, Seven is once again free to pursue her latest project. Her work with the Commander was brief and their interaction efficient and professional. She notes that she experienced a certain anticipatory pleasure prior to her arrival in Astrometrics, and that her awareness of his physical proximity appeared to be heightened as they stood working side by side. Presumably this is desirable when considering the possibility of a romantic liaison.

When she returns to the holodeck research lab, she finds Lieutenant Paris is still there at the console.

"Hello again," he says as he looks up.

"Lieutenant. I will return another time," she states.

"I'm pretty much finished actually, so, if you can wait a second," he replies, his fingers moving over the input pads, "it's all yours again."

Seven nods acknowledgment.

Paris taps in a few more commands and then his fingers leave the panel with a final flourish. "By the way, you left your programme file open when you ran off earlier."

"I didn't run," she states. As she thinks back, however, she notes that his first observation may be correct. The call from the Commander unsettled her and in her haste, it's possible she neglected to close her file.

"Interesting programme you have there. I couldn't help noticing it only had one holographic character listed."

"I was led to believe personal holodeck programmes were considered to be a private matter."

"They are: that's why I closed the file for you. I didn't read it, but the name was hard to miss – given it's the only one listed."

"I presume you will respect my right to privacy."

Paris holds her gaze, then he says, "Look, Seven – I don't know what the Doc's told you, but there are protocols about the use of holograms of colleagues."

"The Doctor gave me the simulation containing the holograms himself. He didn't refer to any protocols governing their use." Seven is aware of the colour rising in her cheeks.

"OK, then. Well, why don't you tell me what the Doc's had you doing, and I can tell you whether it's a problem," Paris offers. "I'm guessing it probably isn't – I mean, the Doc should know the score."

An extremely unwelcome realisation dawns on Seven. Perhaps the Doctor is unaware of the limitations of his own knowledge in this area. Tom Paris has been helpful to Seven in many ways since she joined the crew. His direct manner is something she appreciates. She finds him easier to understand and communicate with than many others and he has not been judgemental. She takes a deep breath and begins her explanation; Paris folds his arms and listens.

"The Doctor has provided me with a simulation populated by members of the bridge crew. And I have used this to practise my conversational skills."

"Well, I won't pretend it isn't unusual to use holograms of your colleagues," he replies, "but, if that's all you've been doing, I don't suppose any real damage has been done. You should ask the Doc to modify the programme though, to use fictional characters instead, just in case it makes anyone uncomfortable."

Seven frowns as she considers this disturbing possibility. "I had not considered that my use of this simulation could have such consequences."

Paris uncrosses his arms and perches his hands on his hips. "I'm sorry Seven. I'm not trying to scare you. I'm sure the Doc hasn't had you doing anything wrong. It was just when I saw your programme with the Chakotay hologram in it, I couldn't help wondering what it was for."

The flush Seven is experiencing seems to be taking an excessive amount of time to subside. Paris eyes her cautiously. "Was it more social skills practice?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." She avoids his piercing blue gaze.

"What manner of speaking would that be exactly?"

"It is embarrassing to discuss."

"Have you been thinking about trying out dating again, by any chance?"

Seven reconnects with his gaze. Lieutenant Paris seems to have been able to guess her intentions remarkably easily.

"Just a hunch," he goes on, "based on something B'Elanna said about your time on Quarra."

"It is true that I developed an interest in personal relationships while observing the workers at the power plant."

"So, you thought you'd try out a date with a hologram first? Like kind of a test flight?"

"Correct."

"And you picked Chakotay?"

"Also correct."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Do you think my choice is unwise?"

"Not necessarily. I just wondered how you arrived at it, that's all."

"I began my research while we were on the planet, using the data available on the employees."

The Lieutenant nods. "Very efficient way of doing things."

"I initially selected two individuals. Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Ayala."

"Ayala too? Why him?"

"His work record was exemplary. He does not insist on making frequent conversation. He maintains peak levels of physical fitness, his features are aesthetically pleasing to me, and he appears to be a patient individual. I believe the maintenance requirements of an intimate relationship with Lieutenant Ayala would not be as high as with some other males. I might be more likely to succeed in fulfilling them."

"I can see you put a lot of thought into this. So, when we got you back to the ship…?"

"I was forced to discount Lieutenant Ayala due to his existing commitment to his wife."

"And Chakotay was next."

"Correct. On the planet I had discounted him due to the fact that he appeared to be in the initial stages of intimacy elsewhere."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"However, since his first choice of companion proved… unfortunate – as was my own – he will also be obliged to choose differently if he still wishes to form a romantic attachment."

"So you've transferred the hologram of Chakotay into your simulation in order to research your compatibility."

"Yes." Seven is grateful for the lack of censure she can read in his expression. "But these protocols about the use of holograms of other officers you referred to… They would forbid me from running such a programme?"

"I hate to be the one to tell you can't carry out your research in the way you wanted to, Seven, but yes, the protocol is pretty clear."

"It wasn't my intention to disregard protocol or make others feel uncomfortable."

"Well, you haven't. Yet. Have you?"

"No. The simulation is not yet complete."

"Well then, there's no harm done. I can help you choose a fictional character to add instead if you like."

"Thank you. I will consider your offer of help." Seven manages a small smile for the first time in this interaction. She appreciates his understanding.

"I'm sure I could pick someone who'd be a lot more fun to practise on than any of the crew."

"Last time I attempted to 'date', Ensign Kim assisted me in my selection of Lieutenant Chapman. I'm sure you are aware of the outcome. So, perhaps I should choose by myself this time."

"Yeah, but then you did ask _Harry_, didn't you? He's hardly got a great track record in that department."

"And your advice would be superior, I suppose," Seven replies, arching an eyebrow, as one part of her mind registers the enjoyment that can result from this form of verbal repartee.

"You bet." Then Paris wags a finger at her as he goes on, "Or, you could do what most of the rest of us do."

She looks at him questioningly.

"You could do your research in the real world, and just ask someone on a date. Or at least come to the party on the holodeck tomorrow night."

"I will consider your suggestions. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Seven. Anytime."

[TBC]


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Paris-Torres quarters: 23.20hrs

She's dreaming. This time, Tom picks out two strings of words. There's something about the efficiency of the thermal reactors, and then another muttered half-sentence, this time including the words 'tylium processors'. But it's enough. He may not be an engineer, but he knows enough about the ship's systems to recognise that her dreams are taking her away from _Voyager_ again. What else from her two months planetside might her unconscious mind still be processing? Sleep came quickly and thickly to her, but it's evading him tonight. So, rather than lie there and disturb her with his restlessness, he opts for more activity and slips out of bed to get dressed again, taking care not to wake her.

A few minutes later and he's stepping out of the 'lift and making his way down the corridor towards the entrance to the holodeck. He hasn't passed anyone at all on his way here so far. As he walks along, he rolls his shoulders, then rubs his hands together in front of him, inhaling deeply. _Move on, Paris._ _Shoot some pool. And move on. _

As he expected, the holodecks are both unoccupied. He starts up the programme and ambles in to be greeted immediately by Sandrine. Pleasantries over and a drink waiting for him on the bar, he racks up the balls to start.

Ten minutes later and he's already more centred. The game is proving good therapy. He's just lining up an easy shot when a flicker of red and black in the doorway gets his attention. He perceives a split second hesitation, then Janeway walks in and stops just short of the pool table.

"You're up late for someone who's on Alpha shift tomorrow, Lieutenant," she states, as she folds her arms and watches him.

"Uh huh. Guess that makes two of us, then. Late night tour of your domain, Captain?" he asks, looking up just as he sinks the shot.

"Something like that."

Janeway still looks tired, but nothing like as grey and exhausted as she was when they beamed her out of Division Six of that hospital.

"Fancy your chances?" Tom's eyes flicker to the other cue, which is leaning up against the bar.

"Another time," she replies with a half smile.

Laying his cue across the table, Tom follows his intuition. He's pretty good at reading Janeway these days. "You got time for a quick drink then?"

She doesn't immediately decline, so he makes his way to the bar and orders her an Irish whiskey, hoping she'll still be there when he turns around. She is.

A few minutes later, they are still standing side by side at the bar. After a few rounds of now familiar banter – this isn't the first time they've bumped into each other here late at night over the last six years, or the last six weeks for that matter – Tom wonders whether he ought to give her the heads up on something. A couple of the things Seven told him earlier had his alarm bells ringing. Someone, the Captain probably, needs to check in on the Doc and intervene before he gives Seven more suspect advice.

After a brief protest, Janeway accepts a second drink, assuring Tom it's also her last. He takes this as his cue.

"I bumped into Seven earlier, in the holodeck lab, and we had a chat about a few things."

"How's she coping with being back on board?"

"She's adapting, obviously."

"Obviously. Stupid question."

"She mentioned the lessons the Doc's been giving her in social skills."

Janeway laughs. "I wonder what Starfleet Command would say about me putting a hologram in charge of teaching social skills."

"Funny you should say that, because… well, right now, I think they might have quite a few things to say, actually."

"Oh?"

Tom can tell that she's instantly back in command mode – if she ever really left it, that is. "He's had her using holograms of the bridge crew to practise on."

"Really?" She frowns, her expression suggesting she's finding this pretty hard to believe.

"'Fraid so. And she was just about to begin some more 'private' research using one of the holograms. I was able to explain about protocol before she'd run the programme though, and she's going to have a re-think."

"I see."

It's a shame to see the worry lines deepen slightly and the tension return around Janeway's mouth. For a moment, Tom wishes he hadn't felt obliged to tell her. He goes on, "I know personnel issues are Chakotay's responsibility, but I happen to know this'd be a pretty tricky one for him to deal with objectively."

Janeway's brow furrows for a moment and then her eyes widen. Tom suspects she's beginning to catch on.

"I'm sure it'd be better for everyone if you dealt with it," he adds. "Unless you want to play it very low key – I could have a word with the Doc during a lull in my next shift in sickbay."

"Thanks, but I'll speak to the Doctor myself first thing tomorrow."

Tom nods and sips his drink. After a few seconds silence, he feels her fixing him with one of her penetrating looks. Before she can formulate any more questions, he turns to face her and asks, "Are you surprised Seven is thinking of dating again?"

"I suppose I shouldn't be," she replies, now perfectly composed again. "A couple of things I overheard down on the planet make sense now." Then she shoots him a sideways glance. "Tom, I'd hate the bridge crew to find out that the Doctor has had Seven using holograms of us in any context."

"No one is going to hear about it from me," he assures her.

She nods, says, "Thanks," and then she swiftly knocks back the last of her drink.

Just as she turns away from the bar to leave, Tom calls her attention back, "Captain, I forgot to say, B'Elanna mentioned that she's done with Hoverball until after the baby's born. So… that's gonna leave Chakotay in need of a partner."

"Well, let's hope he finds an equally challenging opponent," Janeway throws back immediately. Then she adds in clipped tones, "perhaps Seven would be interested."

Tom holds her gaze. "I'm sure she would. She actually told B'Elanna as much already. But I bet her game'd be too clinical for someone like Chakotay. He needs an opponent with more tactical experience – someone who plays with a bit more subtlety, I'd say." He puts his drink down on the bar. "You should ask him for a game."

"I'm not sure I'd have the time," she replies, her husky voice losing some of its edge as she looks at the floor for a moment, "for regular matches."

"Maybe you should make time?" he risks, wondering whether she's actually processed some of the other things they overheard in that bar a few days ago. What did she make of the fact that even after her first officer had been brainwashed and his memories scrambled, in a way, he'd still been fighting with his feelings for her?

She dips her head for a moment and then looks up. "Good night, Tom," she replies, with a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Then she turns on her heels and leaves.

"Night, Captain."

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>The door swishes shut behind her and Kathryn wanders to the low sofa and sinks down into it, one arm resting across the back and her body angled towards the viewport.<p>

Her mind is still picking over the carcass of her conversation with Tom – Seven was about to begin some 'private research', with a personal programme into which she had transferred one hologram. Ever since she joined the crew, things with Seven of Nine have never gone quite the way Kathryn could have predicted. This is no exception, so she probably shouldn't be surprised. But if she's right about what Tom was hinting at then… _Chakotay_? _Seven_ and _Chakotay_?

It seems those two months of life planetside have had a significant impact on the lives of several members of her crew. Seven has clearly decided it's time to branch out – time to integrate more fully into the crew and build more of a life for herself on the ship. And, given that down on Quarra Chakotay seemed to have started on a path with B'Elanna that was heading towards some sort of a relationship too, who's to say he wouldn't still be open to the idea? But with Seven? _Seven of Nine_? They seem like such an unlikely couple.

Kathryn can't begin to imagine why Seven would have selected him. Then… actually, she can. Seven looks to Kathryn to set an example for many things still. And who accompanies Kathryn to social events? Who has been her official and unofficial escort for years now? And, another of Seven's selection criteria would probably be the amount of relevant experience the individual concerned has in the area she wishes to investigate. So, logically, an older man is likely to be more experienced in… Kathryn's mind refuses to go any further.

But does Seven actually _like_ Chakotay? Kathryn can't think of a single example of a time when she's noticed Seven interact with him with anything even vaguely resembling affection, let alone attraction. What sort of a basis would that be for a relationship?

Five minutes later and Kathryn is in front of the mirror in her bathroom. It's time she took off her uniform and started her night-time routine, but her mind is still whirring unhelpfully. Both hands on the washstand, she leans in a little to take a closer look at her face. Older. She looks older. Damn those men who grow more 'rugged' rather than just plain _older_. The wrong side of forty can be an uncomfortable place to be a woman. Seven isn't even the wrong side of thirty yet…

Kathryn inhales deeply and pushes off the washstand to propel herself back out into the living area and finds herself at the replicator before she realises she doesn't actually want anything. She shakes her head and makes her way into her bedroom, to sit down on the end of the bed in the silence – a silence that is often welcome and comforting after the craziness of life out here. But, tonight, it's just empty. She calls for music, but it instantly irritates her and she instructs the computer to discontinue it. Her hands stray to her temples and then up into her hairline as she massages with firm circular movements, feeling the points of tension fizz on her scalp as her fingertips move.

This journey doesn't look like it is about to end anytime soon – they could be out here for the rest of their lives – at the very least for the rest of their professional lives. If they're lucky they might get home in time to retire.

So, that said, Chakotay was always going to move on one day. She'd made sure of that, with her unspoken prohibition. But… until now, well… it had only been theoretical.

He might move on _now_. Kathryn knows that he has probably always laboured under the misconception that it's her commitment to protocol that underpinned her unspoken refusal to let him in at those intense moments, years ago now, when it felt like something could have, _should_ have happened between them.

What if she'd told him it had never really been about protocol? That it had always been more about fear. _When did you become such a coward, Kathryn Janeway? _ But she knows exactly when. She became a coward that day on Tau Ceti Prime – on that stardate that's still etched in scar tissue across her heart.

He was right this morning in the ready room. Of course she was curious about his life on Quarra. He'd teased her about her curiosity a few weeks ago as well, that day he inexplicably ordered B'Elanna to burn out the deflector dish. He'd claimed the temporal time directive had come into play, and later when she tried to get him to tell her what had gone on, he'd said she was wanting answers to questions she shouldn't ask. She concedes that perhaps she is. Again.

But, just because she is the author of the unspoken prohibition doesn't mean she's never entertained any thoughts about the experiences it's prohibiting.

If she ever decides to be honest with him – with herself – she wouldn't be able to claim that he's never found his way into her dreams these past six years. Anymore than she could claim she's never once indulged in a little daydreaming where he's concerned. Even just thinking back to some of the fantasies she entertained towards the end of their time on New Earth – fantasies which caught her off guard more than once by lingering on during the first few difficult months back on the ship – is enough to cause her body to heat up again spontaneously.

But, for the vast majority of the last six years, her instinct for self-preservation has meant she has done everything she can to keep her imagination in check, and it's gotten easier as time has gone by.

_But it's still possible that we could be out here for the rest of our lives._

Kathryn had been blinded by the obviousness of this thought, until they were forced into weeks of nothing in the Void in the fifth year of their journey. Or perhaps it was because as spiritual leader in the church of We Will Find A Way Back Sooner, it was a thought she had never allowed herself to really unwrap. She preferred to keep it in its packaging, like an overpriced ill-fitting dress, chosen in haste in an alien market place and un-returnable due to the linear nature of their journey.

_We could be out here for the rest of our lives._

And they won't get this time back either. Not unless time travel comes into play, of course, and Captain Braxton would probably have something to say about that…

But this evening, once again, this thought seems to be finding its way out of the tissue that was wrapping it away in her mind.

_We could be out here for the rest of our lives._

Perhaps Chakotay's stay on Quarra will inspire him to move on and try to build more of a life on the ship now. It isn't her fault if he felt depressed, undervalued before. It isn't. He should be happy. He deserves to be happy. They all do.

And are the things she heard him say about the Kathryn from his false memories also true of her?

_Oh no, she knew all right._

Can she really deny that she was aware of his feelings for her years ago, and that she suspects that some of them have endured? Perhaps with less intensity, but he is far from indifferent, even now. She only has to think back to the silently murderous glimmer she saw in her first officer's dark eyes the last time an alien dignitary tried to paw her.

And over the last few years, did she encourage him – just a little – offer him crumbs of affection, to keep him at her table? When she was low and needed a boost, isn't it true that she used to invite him to dinner? Dress in something she knew he'd like? His presence afforded her comfort, so she made sure she wouldn't have to do without it. She would put a hand to his chest, his cheek, just to check their connection was still alive – that she could still elicit a reaction from him. Could she swear she's never manipulated his feelings for her – just a little – to achieve a goal? Could she honestly deny all of that?

And was that any way to treat someone, _really_?

Even if he didn't complain, it didn't make it right. He was under no obligation to serve her during his off-duty hours too, and yet he did. How could he move on and find a partner when he was still her escort to most of their social events. Who would dare make a move on the Captain's long-standing 'date'?

_Who indeed. Seven of Nine. That's who._

Look what happened the minute he was down on that god-awful planet without her – he tried to move on. Back on the ship now, with things staying the same as they have been for the last few years, it'd be difficult – awkward for him to acknowledge the needs he has that are going unmet and find himself a partner. She knows this – she's probably known it for years really, and yet she has allowed things to carry on as they are. Despite the fact she doesn't intend to claim him for herself. She can't claim him. She can't want him.

So, what sort of person does this make her?

Kathryn sighs heavily, realising her thoughts are going in circles.

_Enough. This isn't right. _

She will put a stop to this – go and talk to him, right now, tonight. Force him to admit he's lonely and unfulfilled. Bring things out in the open for once. This is a good time for a change. They need more transparency – _honesty –_ between them, or it will inevitably build resentment. And she couldn't bear it if he grew to hate her.

So much has gone unsaid over the years that concealing their feelings from each other is second nature to both of them. But, surely, it must still be possible to get past their usual way of interacting and _really _talk to one other? No legends, no metaphors, no euphemisms, no sub-texts addressing each other obliquely. Just some honest straight talking.

She stands suddenly – so suddenly her head spins for a moment – and then she strides towards the door. Halfway there, she remembers how late it is and asks the computer if Chakotay is in his quarters, and seeks confirmation that he's still awake and that he's alone.

All of her questions are answered in the affirmative.

[TBC]


	13. Chapter 13

AN:Thanks again to northernexposure and to Photogirl1890 and thank you very much to everyone who's left a review - I really appreciate it.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirteen<span>

The door swishes open and she's suddenly face to face with him. He's barefoot and already in his sleepwear – a green and brown short-sleeved top and a pair of baggy dark green pyjama shorts.

"Captain, what can I do for you?" he asks. If he's surprised to see her here so late, he masks it well. His use of her title reminds her she's still in uniform.

"I was just wondering whether you still intend to go the party in Sandrine's tomorrow night."

"Yes, I do. " He smiles. "Why?"

"Will you call past for me on your way down there? You know how I lose track of time when I'm off duty, and I have every intention of having a good long soak in the bathtub beforehand."

"Of course." He's still smiling, just a little too much.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just that you're the second person to ask me about tomorrow night. Someone commed me earlier to ask about the 'estimated time of my arrival', so I'm starting to get a little suspicious here. Please tell me Neelix hasn't got his dates mixed up and he's planning a surprise party? You do know it's nowhere near my birthday?"

Kathryn has a pretty good idea who the first person will have been, but she pushes through the tension inspired by the news of her protégé's developing interest and clings onto her resolve to initiate an open discussion. She holds up both hands and smiles back. "No surprise parties. You have my word. But, actually, if I'm not keeping you up, I wanted to talk to you about something."

He nods and smiles. "Not at all." Standing aside, he gestures for her to enter. "What's on your mind?"

She stops beside his standard issue table and chairs and turns to face him. "Some of the things I overheard you say when you were down on Quarra, they worried me."

He purses his lips and just stands there opposite her, hands on his hips, head tilted slightly to one side.

Kathryn presses on. "You said you were lonely. And depressed."

"Kathryn, we've been through this already this afternoon. I told you, I'm fine."

"Well, let's just say I need a little more reassurance."

He turns away and pads towards the replicator. Just as she's about to say she doesn't want anything, she hears him order her third whiskey of the evening. He hands her the drink, and makes his way over to the sofa to take a seat, cradling his own glass. "Our memories had been altered," he reinforces. "Whatever you thought you heard me say, I can't have been talking about my life on _Voyager_."

Kathryn watches him, then looks down at the pale amber liquid in her glass. "But they created those false memories using your feelings about your life on the ship." Reconnecting with his gaze she goes on, "Surely you must have realised that?"

"There were some similarities, yes, but-"

"Like your boss being a woman called Kathryn, who happened to look exactly like me?"

"But it _wasn't_ you. You aren't responsible for the tricks they played on me with my memories."

"You say that, but the things I overheard you say about her – about how she manipulated your feelings… Can you honestly say you don't think of me in that way sometimes?"

"Yes." His reply is instant, delivered without a flicker of hesitation, his tone firm, but his expression guarded. "I can. And I don't. It wasn't you, Kathryn."

She moves a little closer to stand over him, obliging him to look up to meet her gaze now. "How can you be so sure?"

His voice drops a little. "Because I don't feel like that about our situation here. It's different."

"Oh, but there are enough similarities. Our situation here…" she gestures vaguely at the space between them, "it's bound to breed resentment eventually."

"I don't feel resentment towards you, Kathryn," he replies. Then a beat later, his voice lower still, he adds, "Far from it."

She turns away. Suddenly feeling the need to escape his gaze, she paces the small space available in his living area. "But, you've been feeling lonely, depressed, undervalued on the ship-"

"No… I-"

"I'm asking you to be honest with me, Chakotay," she says, facing him again now.

They lock eyes and he says nothing for a moment, as if he's debating whether to challenge her, and then he puts his glass down on the coffee table and leans back. After a few seconds, he looks up and their eyes meet again. Kathryn feels her pulse speed up slightly.

"All right. I can do honest, if that's what you really want. I was raised to be open about my feelings - although that was a long time ago and our situation here, well… _Of course_ I don't have everything I want from life, but I don't hold _you_ responsible for that, Kathryn. And I don't see you as someone who has been manipulating me."

"But you blame me for the fact you're lonely, alone here."

"_No_, I don't."

Kathryn exhales. "You say you don't have everything you want from life - so, are you going to do anything about it?"

"I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"You'd rather have someone to share things with, to build a life with on the journey. Wouldn't you?"

It's evident from the flush rising up his neck and face that he isn't enjoying being put on the spot. He's responding as if this is some sort of late night cross-examination, when that wasn't her intention at all. He takes a sip of his drink before he replies this time.

"Kathryn, do you mind telling me what's going on here?" he asks. Then he smiles a little, trying to cover his discomfort by injecting some levity and deflecting her questions no doubt – familiar tactics they've both been known to employ at times. "Why these questions all of a sudden? Am I falling behind in some schedule you've drawn up for me? Am I not moving on fast enough?"

She doesn't miss his implicit acknowledgment that there is something to move on from, but his misinterpretation of her concern is far more unsettling than amusing. Her reply is out of her mouth, however, while her brain is still processing his comments. "It seemed to me like you were ready to move on down there on the planet."

He sighs quietly. "It was different there."

"So I'm told," she adds. Then she puts her untouched drink on the table and sits down next to him on the sofa. He joins his fingers in his lap and looks down at them.

She decides to change tack. "It seems Seven is developing an interest in you."

He shoots her a sideways look – a little perplexed, perhaps. Kathryn wonders whether he'll presume that Seven has confided in her – asked her advice perhaps? Now she's started, however, Kathryn realises she isn't sure how to carry this conversation forward without betraying any confidences, so she says nothing. Finally, she asks, "Aren't you surprised she called earlier to ask about your off-duty movements?"

He raises his eyebrows, and scrubs a hand across his chin. Something in his expression makes Kathryn think that he isn't anywhere near as surprised by Seven's attentions as she was.

"Down on Quarra, she did seem to take a particular interest in my work. We actually thought she was compiling a case to get me fired."

"And how do you feel about this new interest of hers?"

"More than a little surprised."

They sit in silence and the moment draws out between them. After a while, Kathryn turns to face him again and asks quietly, "So, you're not lonely?"

"Why?" His head turns and he meets her gaze, then his low tones come again. "Are you?"

"It's not a question I ask myself." She looks away, but she can still feel his eyes on her face.

"Maybe not, but I'm asking now. Are you? Lonely?"

She turns back to face him, quirks an eyebrow and replies pointedly, "Now you're trying to turn the tables on me to avoid answering my question."

As he shifts back in his seat a little, Kathryn is convinced he's disguising a sigh. Sitting close to him right now feels very different to this afternoon in the ready room. She's intensely aware of the very masculine physicality of his body next to her – of his every tiny movement. She watches his bare feet slide forward and finds herself following the contours of his calf muscles as they move slightly.

"Maybe I had been feeling a little dissatisfied with my life," he finally concedes, "It can seem… limited." His eyes find hers and he tries again. "Don't you ever feel that way?"

"Honestly? I try not to think about the future."

"And when you do?"

"Well, Earth seems so very far away at the moment, even though we're closer than we've ever been. So, I suppose I had been feeling a little… low."

His expression softens. "We used to talk to each other."

"We did," she acknowledges, wondering if this means he's coming round to the idea of being a little more forthcoming with her. "I know you were joking a moment ago," she presses on, "but did you mean what you said? Do you believe I've intentionally pushed you away so you'll move on?"

"Well, have you?"

"I just want you to do whatever will make you happy, Chakotay."

Then he fixes her with an uncharacteristically direct gaze that cuts straight through her, and she suddenly feels terribly exposed, as if he can see into her mind and read her thoughts even as they are forming.

"How did you feel when you found me and B'Elanna in that bar on the planet?"

The softness of the delivery of his question belies its impact on Kathryn. She steels herself to produce a measured reply. "Relieved you were safe."

"Is that all?" he asks.

"It made sense actually. You two have always been close."

"I see." He looks away for a second, then his eyes find hers again, his expression unreadable. "Then I suppose you wouldn't mind if I developed an interest in Seven either? If I asked her on a date, say?"

"You need to build a life for yourself in the present, Chakotay. I _understand_ that. Seven isn't officially part of the command structure, and-"

"Kathryn, I just was making a point." He cuts her off, looking down again and shaking his head a little, his tone suggesting incredulity. "I have no intention of dating Seven of Nine! Frankly, I'm amazed you think I would."

Kathryn feels foolish and the heat rises in her cheeks. Unable to think of an immediate response, she purses her lips and takes a steadying breath. Overcome by the desire to flee, she makes a snap decision to put an end to this conversation right now.

She stands suddenly and clasps her hands in front of her as she formulates her thoughts into words. "I'm sorry about this, Chakotay – about all these questions. I really just wanted to apologise and to ask for your forgiveness."

"You have nothing to apologise for."

"I do. For keeping you just close enough that you couldn't move on. I know that's what I've done, and I'm not proud of it. I'm sorry." He opens his mouth to reply but she's quicker. "I'm sorry I've kept you up too." She smiles weakly. "It's late and we really should call it a night."

She's halfway to the door in a matter of seconds. Why she'd thought they could instantly break a six year-long habit, just because she'd decided they should, she can't even begin to fathom now.

_Coming here like this tonight was one hell of a stupid idea._

She turns in time to see him stand and frown. Then, just as he starts to say, "Kathryn, I-" she cuts him off by wishing him goodnight, and slips quickly out of the door.

[TBC]


	14. Chapter 14

AN: An extra-special big thank you to northernexposure and Photogirl1890 – this is a beast of a chapter – I'm very grateful for their time. A short epilogue follows immediately after.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 14<span>

19 hours later

Sandrine's

B'Elanna moves in her seat, trying to find a position that is less uncomfortable for her back. Sitting down is damn near impossible these days – lying or standing is preferable – but she's tired, so she settles for the best position she can find right now and tries to distract herself by taking in the scene before her.

She has to concede Tom and Neelix have done a good job. It's true she was rather vocal in her criticism of Tom's suggestion that they use Sandrine's_ again_, but she can see now that the modifications he's made to the programme have improved it. He's managed to extend the bistro without losing the atmosphere, adding enough tables and chairs to accommodate quite a large number of people. And moving the pool table into the corner leaves the middle of the room free for dancing, if it turns out to be that sort of an evening. The whole point was to choose a setting that would remind the crew of the community they belong to on _Voyager_, at the same time as stimulating their memories of their personal histories on Earth. Sandrine's was one of the first holoprogrammes people frequented in the early days of the journey and there's no denying the bistro does still have an authentic Terran feel to it.

Tom catches her eye. He's standing at the bar with a small group, at the centre of which stands the very new _Lieutenant_ Kim, flanked by Seven of Nine and Neelix. Tom points to his glass, asking if B'Elanna wants a refill. She shakes her head and then they are both immediately distracted by Harry, who bursts out laughing at something Neelix says. Harry has been on cloud nine since Janeway and Chakotay ambushed him on the bridge this morning. Ayala delivered a cryptic message to B'Elanna from Chakotay, suggesting she might want to monitor how the repairs were holding up from the engineering station on the bridge first thing. Consequently, she'd been there to witness the promotion take Harry by surprise. He seems to be energised with almost the same level of enthusiasm B'Elanna can remember him having at the very beginning of their journey. He's making a toast to something, and Tom raises his glass and catches her eye again. They share a smile at Harry's evident delight.

She and Tom are going to be OK: B'Elanna can feel it. This past week, reacquainting herself with her life on board has been a strange experience, to say the least. Like reading a book and it gradually dawning on you that you've actually read it before as more of what is going to happen comes back to you. But the overwhelming feeling she's come away with so far is one of relief, and, following close on its heels, gratitude. To rediscover her own history, the place she's earned on the ship, her relationship with Tom – all of it – has been to realise that her life is so much better than the life those brainwashing _petaQ_'_s_ had tricked her into accepting.

She watches Tom for a moment as he flashes his boyish grin at Seven. Who else but Tom Paris could sweet-talk Seven of Nine? Perhaps it helps to have practised on a half-Klingon. To think B'Elanna had been robbed of her memories of the journey they've come on together – forgotten ever knowing this deceptively complex, disarmingly direct and compassionate man she gradually fell in love with. At night she is haunted by the thought that she would she have carried on, carrying his child, to build a life without him. She would have been cheated out of so much; it still makes her blood boil to think about it.

She would have made a life, of course – maybe with Chakotay. It isn't that she thinks she and Chakotay would have been a disaster – they've always gotten on, and the fact they gravitated towards one another answers a few 'What ifs' from way back. It's not as if she wouldn't have known what to do with him – what red-blooded woman wouldn't? (and a fair few green or blue blooded ones too, probably.) It's one of the many madnesses of life on _Voyager_ that a man like that has been celibate for most of the trip. But, that aside, she doubts she'd have been able to find with him everything that she has now. Age and experience divide them, where they unite her and Tom. Add to that the fact she'd have been playing second fiddle to his memories of someone else…

Tom seems to have stopped bristling every time anyone mentions Chakotay, but it's high time she pinned Chakotay down. He's been avoiding her – he's so damn obvious. He's barely set foot in engineering since he's been back on duty, and he's usually one of their most frequent visitors.

Just as she's thinking that she must make sure she speaks to him tonight, the Captain walks in, with Chakotay close behind. Janeway has actually shed her uniform for once. She's wearing a dress of an interesting shade of blue, with a matching shrug, and she has her diplomatic smile firmly plastered in place. And him? Well, he's starting to look just like he always used to again – mildly interested. B'Elanna exhales sharply. The man needs someone to give him a good kick in the butt. At least he's wearing something new. He's in dark pants and a plain cream shirt she doesn't recognise.

Janeway and Chakotay both nod a greeting in her direction as they make their way to join the group centred around Harry at the bar. A few minutes later, just as B'Elanna is working up the mental energy to shift her heavily pregnant form to go join them, she sees Chakotay making his way over to her, an orange-coloured drink in each hand.

"Thought you might need a refill." He puts the glasses down and settles himself into the seat next to her.

She tilts her head and shoots him a sideways glance. "Thanks. Although it'd better not be Neelix's real alcohol firebrand punch."

He purses his lips. "Relax. It's his virgin fruit cocktail. It's good actually."

"Like I'd take your word for it!" she snorts. "Your idea of 'good' and mine are galaxies apart when it comes to Neelix's creations."

They sip their drinks and watch the group at the bar for a moment, until he asks, "So, how are you doing?"

"I'm OK. Baby's kicking so much I think it's building something in there. I just hope it doesn't expect to come out in it."

"You think it's constructing some primitive twentieth century vehicle?" He chuckles. "Chip off the old block?"

"Something like that, yeah." Another few seconds elapse and B'Elanna decides she isn't going to just allow things to slip back to normal without any comment at all. "And how about you? How are you doing?"

"Good."

"So, does this mean you're done avoiding me?"

He dips his head and one hand strays to his ear. "Just thought you and Tom could use some space."

"We're fine."

He nods. "That's good." Then a few seconds later he looks across and asks cautiously, "And are we? Fine?"

As he awaits her response, she can't help but find his evident unease rather endearing. He's usually so confident in his interactions, and she feels a rush of affection for him. "Yeah. Of course we're OK. We'll always be OK."

He's facing the bar again, but B'Elanna sees the corner of his mouth twitch up as he relaxes visibly.

"And how about you and Janeway?" she asks.

He tilts his head her way again. "What do you mean?"

She makes a face. "You know what I mean. All those things you said when we were down there, Chakotay. I can't just _un-know_ them. You said you'd been _in love with her_ for years."

"I wasn't talking about her."

"Bullshit. You never used to be one to split hairs."

He looks away, and B'Elanna suddenly feels bad for him. Perhaps he really has tried to do something about it. It probably wasn't the best idea she's ever had to charge straight in. She sighs and studies his face. When she speaks this time, her voice has lost some of its edge. "Look, I know you don't like people telling you what to do, so I'll stop – because I'm sure you already know what I think anyway."

He sips his drink and B'Elanna follows his gaze back to Janeway at the bar. She is still talking to the happiest man on the ship, but she notices them looking at her, and she smiles in their direction.

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>Kathryn watches them together, and can't help but think back to the last time she saw them in a bar sitting next to each other like that. Then again, it wasn't like that. Now, they already look just like they always used to, sitting there side by side.<p>

Before she sets off around the room to socialise and make her presence here felt, Kathryn looks past Harry to Tom. He's clapping Harry on the back and regaling the assembled crewmembers with tales of his friend's more embarrassing adventures. This one seems to involve the Delaney Sisters, a boating trip, and damage to Harry's trousers. Her pilot is in his element. He doesn't appear to be casting any furtive glances in B'Elanna and Chakotay's direction. If anyone should be finding the thought of what went on down on that damned planet hard to get past, it's him, surely. And he doesn't appear to be allowing some memory-altered future that never really got off the starting line to stop him from grabbing whatever happiness he can in the here and now. Because this is real, she reminds herself. That wasn't.

_You tell yourself that if it helps, _the cynical part of her mind whispers.

But the better part, the adult part, the part that gets her out of bed every morning, acknowledges that what went on down on Quarra was a result of the human drive to survive, to adapt and to make the best of the hand that life deals you. And this greater part of her knows that Tom's attitude is the right one.

The Chakotay she observed down on the planet, severed from the greater part of his personal history, was not the real man. Time spent analysing what he said or didn't say then is time wasted. The real man, whole, and possibly still confused after everything she threw at him last night, is just across the room from her now, readjusting to the weight of the life he has just reclaimed.

Tom and B'Elanna have gradually carved out a good life for themselves together on this journey. Their relationship hasn't caused either of them to lose focus and it's made both of them happier. Noticeably happier.

_Yes, but it's different for them._

She sighs, then takes a long pull on her punch, and instantly regrets it as she remembers quite how alcoholic the damn stuff is.

_Why is it actually so different? They aren't in command – is that it? But that isn't to say their decisions aren't important – that our all of our lives have never been in either of their hands. Would it be so very different – really – if Chakotay and I were to…?_

Some of the repressed longing in her heart makes itself felt even as she allows the very beginning of that thought to form. But is she_ really_ prepared to face her fears and risk her battered heart again? And, if she isn't, then she has to be prepared to watch him move on. He may not think he would date Seven of Nine, but Seven is nothing if not persistent. And if not Seven, then there's likely to be someone else eventually.

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>An hour and a half later, Kathryn has done her rounds and decides it's time to attempt to actually relax before she calls it a night. Despite having no prearranged agreement, she and Chakotay have covered the whole room between them. She finds herself back at the bar, with yet another glass of Neelix's lethal punch in her hand.<p>

She looks up from her drink just as the shapely figure of Seven in her cerise bodysuit comes to stand at Kathryn's side. She makes a mental note to speak to the Doctor again; this time about whether there is really any continuing medical need for Seven to wear such clothing. Perhaps her bodysuits could be redesigned as underwear?

_Couldn't be that hard, really, could it? They already look like underwear… _

Seven might actually _like _wearing clothes that allow her to feel more human, rather than be confined to such restrictive attire that forever singles her out as part Borg.

It seems her protégé's thoughts are on a similar subject as she greets Janeway and remarks, "Your outfit is attractive, Captain. There have been few occasions when I have seen you out of uniform, and I believe this to be my favourite of your ensembles."

"Why, thank you, Seven," Kathryn replies, fingering the close fitting cerulean shrug she's wearing. "It's just an old thing I've had for a long time. But I'm still fond of it." She smoothes the sheer fabric of her matching knee-length dress. "And I'm glad I can still get into this. Wearing it reminds me of home."

"An appropriate choice for this evening, then. Neelix has explained to me that he and Mr Paris have organised this evening in order to promote feelings of community and of attachment to Earth."

"Yes. That's the plan."

Seven nods towards the speaker directly opposite them in the wall panel behind the bar. "This music is offensive."

Kathryn laughs. "Well, I wouldn't go that far, Seven. An acquired taste maybe – it's popular music from the Alpha Quadrant, from the time just before we were stranded here. It will resonate with the crew."

"I will leave you to enjoy it, Captain, I wish to stand further away from the source."

It is rather loud just there, so Kathryn gestures towards the far side of the room. "Let's join the others over there then."

A small group has formed, spilling out from the table B'Elanna is still occupying, comprising of Joe Carey, Mike Ayala, Ken Dalby and Noah Lessing, Ensign Tabor and Crewman Jor. A quick glance around the rest of the room confirms that the enlarged Sandrine's is pretty much at capacity.

Just as they approach, Noah Lessing steps forward to intercept Seven, and, as he bends to speak, Kathryn hears his deep voice saying how pleased he is Seven has come. Kathryn carries on towards Chakotay – she's felt his eyes watching her ever since she left the bar. Tom is sitting opposite B'Elanna, and Chakotay has found his way back to the same seat at B'Elanna's side. Kathryn assumes that, like her, he probably feels he's earned a break after doing the rounds of the party.

Mike Ayala moves aside so that Kathryn can pull the chair out and sit down opposite her first officer. Immediately, Chakotay asks if she wants another drink, and she declines. He looks noticeably more relaxed now somehow. The two of them got through the shift today because they are both consummate professionals, but that doesn't change the fact that it was extremely awkward at times.

When Kathryn awoke this morning, all the feelings of uneasiness came back to her immediately. The night before, after only a few minutes back in the sanctuary of her own bedroom she'd realised that she had been every bit as evasive as he had, probably more so. This evening, she'd been half expecting him to make up some excuse not to call past for her, but he hadn't. He arrived only a little late, and only slightly flustered. And he immediately apologised, explaining that he got caught up refereeing an argument between Neelix and Tom Paris about the music selection for the evening. He is man enough, apparently, to take her late night inquisition in his stride and carry on.

"Do you remember this one?" he asks, as a loud thumping rhythm starts up.

"Can't say that I do," she replies. "Why, should I?"

"I think you might be in for a surprise, then." The mischief in his eyes makes her curious. Kathryn frowns and waits for him to explain, but, before he has the chance, the chorus blasts out, and someone turns the music up even further.

Immediately, Ayala and Dalby turn to Chakotay, and Dalby shouts, "Come on, Chakotay. You can't sit this out!"

"Believe me, I can," he shouts back.

They turn to B'Elanna, who throws up both hands, "You're joking right? Eight months pregnant, remember?"

Dalby shrugs and the two men turn away to join the other crewmembers already starting to fill the dance area. Kathryn angles her chair so she can watch, and it doesn't take her long to register that the dance floor is filling up with Chakotay's former Maquis crew. She turns back to him for an explanation, but he just grins. It's unlikely he could make himself heard over the noise of the singing that's just started up anyway.

Kathryn picks out the recurring refrain of the chorus.

"_I'll answer the call!_

_You can count on me._

_I'll answer the call!_

_Again and again and again and again_…"

It seems to be a remarkably repetitive song, but the drum and bass rhythms are powerful, and she can see how the uncomplicated melody and recurring lyric would stick in the memory. Whenever it gets to the last line of the chorus, everyone out on the dance floor seems to punch one hand in the air and they are singing along at the top of their voices.

Determined to get an explanation she gestures to Chakotay to lean in. They both lean right in as far as they can from their respective sides of the table and he speaks close to her ear.

"It's a good memory. We only ever sung this when things had gone right."

"Hope that means we've done something right tonight, then."

"Definitely," he replies, leaning in a little further, so he doesn't have to shout so loud. "Since Teero, some people had been feeling awkward about things. It's good to bring back a memory that makes them feel proud."

"Agreed," she shouts back. "Although I'd have to say the Maquis taste in music does seem a little_ unsophisticated_."

He laughs – that's to say she presumes he does, since as he sits back in his seat his eyes crinkle and he grins – but the music and the 'singing' drown out any other sounds she might have heard. A few minutes later, the song comes to a crescendo and ends abruptly, and, as the next one begins, someone turns the volume down slightly. Thank goodness.

Seven is still standing next to the table, and she looks down at Kathryn. "The Doctor's instruction did not extend to this style of dancing."

Janeway laughs. "Can't say I'm surprised, Seven. Although I don't think there's much anyone could say by way of instruction for that one."

"Indeed."

A slower song starts up, and Noah Lessing says something to Seven. Kathryn watches as the young woman's eyes flicker to Chakotay, who is in the process of moving out of his chair to stand. He picks up his and Kathryn's glasses and heads towards the bar (Kathryn has nodded her consent to another drink – finally letting go of the tenuous hold she still had on her intention to stay sober). Seven graces Lessing with a small, but truly engaging smile and they join the other couples on the dance floor. As her first officer makes his way around the edge of the moving mass of bodies towards the bar, Kathryn takes a moment to study her protégé and her dance partner.

Seven is dwarfed by Lessing, even in her heeled boots, but he has the air of a gentle giant about him as he guides her out among the other members of her new collective on the dance floor. She looks self-conscious, for sure, but not overly. It's hard to believe this is the same young woman who plunged her assimilation tubules into a console on the bridge a little over three years ago in an attempt to take control of the ship and deliver it to the Borg. Now, here she is, dancing with another of the complicated additions to the crew of that same ship. Truth certainly is stranger than fiction.

Kathryn's musings come to an end with the song, and Chakotay reappears. He hands her yet another glass of the questionable punch and stands next to her chair. Lessing and Seven also head back to join the group around the table. Kathryn watches as Lessing turns to talk to Ayala, and Seven stands perfectly still. She appears to be paying attention to the next melody starting up and suddenly Kathryn catches on – Seven is probably assessing whether it is a rhythm she has covered in her lessons with the Doctor. Another few seconds elapse, during which Tom finally coaxes B'Elanna out of her seat and up onto the floor. Then, Kathryn watches as the former Borg's eyes come to rest on Chakotay. He's looking out across the dimly lit, crowded room, sipping his drink.

Suddenly, some territorial instinct, possibly awakened by one too many glasses of firebrand punch, stirs from deep within Kathryn's core and she finds herself standing, to put herself right next to him, shoulders touching.

"Now _this_," she says, gesturing to indicate the slower tempo of the music, "This is more like it."

Now that she's standing, she smoothes her hands down the fabric of her dress, and adjusts the way it sits over her hips. She looks up to find his eyes sweeping over her. Placing a hand on his bicep, she smiles and leaves her hand there to slide down the curve of his muscle and linger for a moment. It's a far cry from the usual pats she regularly doles out to all her officers, but it's nothing so blatant that she couldn't deny that it carries any significance, should she so choose.

"Shall we?" she asks, nodding towards the dance floor. "As long as this rhythm isn't too _sophisticated_ for you of course."

His eyes betray his surprise for a split second. Then he quickly leans across her to put his glass down on the table and she feels his hand on her lower back.

"Oh, I think I'll manage. I think I can do sophisticated when it's required of me."

She lets him lead her out to find a place on the far side of the crowded dance floor and he immediately guides her into a conservative hold, maintaining a respectable distance between them. The warmth of his large hand placed firmly on the small of her back feels just right, and Kathryn's awareness of her other hand resting in his is heightened – of the way her fingers curl perfectly over his and his warm palm presses gently against hers. He looks down at her and smiles.

There are so many of the crew on the dance floor now – couples dancing in hold, small groups and the odd individual too, all moving to the music – that the command team are simply one couple is a sea of bodies. To their left there's a Delaney sister dancing with Walter Baxter, and another in the arms of Ensign Rollins. To their right Tal Celes, looking rather worse for wear it has to be said, is draped over the long-suffering Billy Telfer. Kathryn tries her best not to notice, since the last thing any of these people need is the beady eyes of their captain on them right now. Chakotay's thoughts seem to be taking him in a similar direction, as he steers them smoothly away from the couple in question.

No one appears to be paying any particular attention to them, and the lighting is low anyway, so Kathryn decides it's time for a little sabotage. She moves in a fraction, to close the distance her partner has so carefully measured. The change in their posture it effects is so subtle that it would probably be imperceptible to ninety-nine per cent of their crew – and the one per cent is too busy dancing with his heavily pregnant wife to notice.

It's the closest they've ever been, aside from the life-threatening situations when he's used his body as a shield to protect her. Immediately she moved closer, in her peripheral vision she saw him look down pointedly at her, but she still hasn't looked up to meet his gaze. He continues to guide her slowly to the music, and he doesn't pull back to re-establish the distance she's closed down. Kathryn smiles as she realises she didn't expect him too. He leans in a little closer if anything, and the emerging stubble on his jaw grazes her temple.

When the song ends and another starts up, he doesn't make to release her. He picks up the new rhythm instantly and adjusts the tempo of their movement around the room accordingly. He moves with the effortless grace of a natural dancer and Kathryn is unsurprised to discover he's a strong lead. She's also unsurprised to discover how much she is enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

She hears him sing along to a line from the song and she pulls back a little to smile up at him and ask, "Another Maquis favourite?"

Strong arms immediately draw her back to re-establish the closeness she'd introduced before, and she feels his breath against her ear. "Yes, although we used to sing it ourselves, rather than listen to it."

Her cheek brushes his as she reaches up so he can hear her reply. "It's rather melancholy – the tune."

"Yes. It is. Funny - there were only two or three songs I remember from my time in the Maquis and it seems Tom has managed to dig them out."

"Well, I like this one."

She feels him pull her a fraction closer still, and, perhaps unintentionally, his lips graze her ear this time as he remarks, "I never thought I'd dance to this with a Starfleet captain in my arms."

His lips against her skin and the unaccustomed intimacy of his tone send a delicious frisson down her spine.

She pulls back again – enough to look him in the eye. "Consorting with the enemy, eh?"

His dark eyes crinkle and he chuckles. "Sounds good to me."

She laughs. "I never took you for such a pushover, Mr Chakotay."

"Depends on the direction of the push."

"Well, maybe I'll try my luck then."

His lips graze her ear again – this time it might not be an accident – as he adds, "I promise I'll come quietly, Captain."

Just as she's reeling from the realisation of what he's capable of doing to her with just a few soft words, spoken in jest, a loud high-pitched shriek suddenly cuts through the music. They both turn towards the sound. The Delaney sisters are at the bar, and heads are being thrown back and glasses slammed down. Kathryn and Chakotay aren't the only ones who look their way, but, once it's clear the squeals are of delight rather than alarm, everyone resumes dancing. Kathryn can't help herself, before she settles back into his arms, she looks around to see whether anyone is watching them, and he doesn't miss it. She sees him smirk.

"What it is?" she asks.

"You can't believe it, can you?"

"What do you mean?"

'They're not watching us, Kathryn; we're old news. They probably made their minds up about us one way or the other years ago."

She feels the corner of her mouth rise and tilts her head down away from his smiling eyes and lets her forehead rest against his jaw again.

Then suddenly, she starts back a little as her communicator chirps. _"Tuvok to Janeway."_

She locks eyes with Chakotay. "Go ahead Tuvok."

"_I trust the celebration is proving beneficial for crew morale."_

"I'd say so. What can I do for you, Tuvok?"

"_You requested I inform you when we move beyond the sector for which we have acquired detailed local star charts. We have just done so."_

"Very good. Thank you, Tuvok. I'll review all the long range scans first thing in the morning."

"_Enjoy your evening, Captain. Tuvok out."_

Chakotay watches her face for a moment and she finds herself studying his.

Then he gently adjusts his hold on her and they resume their slow progress around the floor. She's overwhelmed for a moment by the creeping awareness that despite everything they've been through, there are sides to this man that she still knows absolutely nothing about.

A few minutes later, Kathryn wonders whether she should apologise for last night. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. Perhaps it'd be better to wait until they are alone to have this conversation. Then again, she muses, if the admission she intends to make has even a fraction of the effect she suspects it would once have had on him, it might actually be better if they're in a public place – unless she's already prepared to wake up tomorrow morning in her first officer's bed of course… Trying to stop such thoughts from spiralling out of control, she makes a decision and reaches up. It's her lips that graze his ear this time as she finally says what she should have said first thing this morning.

"I'm sorry about last night. I owe you an apology."

He draws back enough to look her in the eye. "No. You don't."

She closes the gap again. "Actually, I do. Because it's possible I wasn't entirely truthful with you."

"Really?" From the sound of his voice, she's sure he's wearing that deadpan look of his.

"I might have been the tiniest bit jealous of your developing closeness with B'Elanna on Quarra."

"I see. That all?"

"It's also possible that I might not have felt completely happy if you had decided to start dating Seven."

"So, you were jealous."

"Maybe, just a little. Haven't you ever felt that way?" she challenges.

He pulls her a little closer still and she feels the rumble of his laughter through his chest. She can hear the smile in the words that he delivers directly into her ear. "Are you _really_ expecting a list of all the moments over the last few years when I've felt jealous? How long have you got?"

"And I was also a little jealous of this other Kathryn, the one from your false memories."

"Why?"

"You obviously had strong feelings for her."

"I didn't say that _none_ of my false memories were based on you, Kathryn."

Despite the effects of the firebrand punch, Kathryn is still mindful of where they are, and, as she moves with him, the heat of his solid, warm, masculine body feels so good to her that it must be wrong. She closes her eyes for a moment to remind herself that it's her own prohibition that makes this thrill feel so illicit. None of the Starfleet protocols that govern personal relationships were ever intended to apply to the possibility of a lifetime on duty with the same crew.

She lets out a steadying breath and allows her temple to rest against the side of his face again, as she tries to relax a little more into the experience of this new closeness.

"Ready to call it a night?" he asks a few minutes later.

"They usually manage pretty well without us," she smiles.

He releases her and leans in to speak, one hand lingering on the small of her back. "I'll break the news to Lieutenant Kim that we've decided to leave him in charge."

* * *

><p>XxX<p>

* * *

><p>B'Elanna is still speaking to Carey and Tabor, and Tom has given up trying to follow the conversation, because believe it or not, they're discussing an experimental way to create a stable warp field when there are high levels of subspace radiation. Too much of Neelix's fire ant punch or whatever it was called means Tom really isn't on the same page right now.<p>

He leans back in his seat and watches as Janeway and Chakotay leave the dance floor and head towards the bar, where Harry is holding court, a Delaney sister on each arm. Megan has enlisted the help of a fair percentage of the crew this evening in her attempt to distract her sister from dwelling on the loss of her latest flame. Jenny seems well on her way to oblivion already, so maybe that counts as a job well done.

Just as Tom is trying to remember which twin it was that Harry used to be interested in, Seven strides purposefully over and stops to stand next to him.

"Hey, Seven," Tom says brightly, "Having a good time?"

"I am undecided."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I am unsure at what point I should return to the Cargo bay."

"Yeah, knowing when to leave is often tricky. Have you enjoyed yourself so far?"

"The evening has been enlightening."

"In what way?"

Seven looks across towards the command team at the bar. "I have discounted Commander Chakotay from the research we discussed."

"Probably a good idea."

"And Crewman Lessing has requested my presence after my shift tomorrow, to assist him in his attempts to increase his level of skill at Velocity."

Tom feels his eyebrows rise a little. "And are you going to help him?"

"I believe it would be rude to decline."

He frowns. "You aren't obliged to say yes, Seven, if you don't want to. Do you enjoy his company?"

"Yes."

"OK. Well, that's a good reason to meet up. I'm sure he could do with a few more friends."

"I am aware of his problematic status on this ship. He has worked hard to redeem himself since joining this crew."

"You're right. He has. I hope you have a good time, Seven."

"As do I. Goodnight, Lieutenant."

As she walks swiftly towards the exit, Tom wonders why she didn't include Harry in her list of possible romantic partners. Was it because he wasn't down on Quarra when she began her research? Then he remembers the selection criteria she laid out when he asked her how she'd come to select Ayala. Tom smiles to himself as he wonders whether Seven believes Harry would be too high maintenance. And he can't help but wonder what Mike Ayala would make of the fact that he was the first choice for former Borg drones due to a presumption that he'd have low maintenance requirements as a mate.

He smiles to himself again and shifts his chair back closer to B'Elanna's and catches her eye. At the first lull in her conversation with the others he leans in. "Did I tell you how radiant you look this evening? With the glow you have coming off you tonight, you'd outshine the brightest stream of electro-plasma."

She pats his cheek and replies, "You say the sweetest things."

[TBC]


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

Chakotay enters the lift first. Once she's inside and the doors close, he drifts from her side to stand behind her. Kathryn calls for deck three, and, within seconds she feels him reach for her right hand. His fingers curl around hers.

As she continues to look straight ahead at the doors, she smiles as a thrill of anticipation makes its way down her spine. She leans back just enough for the back of her head to rest against his shoulder. Then she feels him bend his head down and his lips brush her ear with the lightest of touches, intensifying the thrill. Seems the man is finally catching on.

"My dating skills are more than a little rusty, but the fact I've known my date for the last six years is helping here. So… at the risk of significant brig time… have you had a change of heart, about us?"

"So, there's an 'us' now, is there?" she teases, still without turning around.

Suddenly her nervous system is sent reeling by the intensely pleasurable feeling of his lips on her neck, and she finds herself rooted to the spot as the movement of his mouth demands all her attention. She can barely focus on his words as he pauses for a moment to mumble against her skin, "There's always been an 'us', Kathryn."

Her fingers tighten reflexively around his and she leans back into him a little more. His lips resume their attentions to her neck, and an arm snakes around her waist and pulls her further back into his solid body, sending another far more potent thrill right to her core.

"Computer, halt turbolift," she forces out. She pauses for a second then goes on, "You do realise this could still be a terrible mistake?" Her voice comes out huskier than she'd expected.

"Maybe we'll make mistakes, but I promise you, this won't be terrible."

"You sound very confident, Commander."

"Some things are just a sure bet, Captain."

"This isn't a boxing fight, you know."

"Good job, because you had me on the ropes years ago."

"Very smooth," she laughs. "So, I guess that means you had me down as a cheat, then."

"Oh, no. It's not that you wouldn't play by the rules - far from it," she feels his words against the sensitive skin of her neck again. "It's just I figured you for an inside fighter, you know: always getting in there far too close, with nippy little counterpunches."

She laughs again, leans into him and twists her head back so that she can see his face. "I can see you've given this some thought."

"You could say that… " His lips graze her cheek.

"You mean you've wanted to swing for me once or twice?"

"No." He presses the softest kiss just shy of the corner of her mouth. "But I might have thought about letting you pin me to the ropes."

She watches his mouth. "Like I said before, I had no idea you were such a pushover."

"Oh, but I think you did…" he murmurs, as his lips finally crush down on hers.

She invites him into her heart, and is unsurprised to find that he's already there.

[The End]


End file.
